


Map of the Mind

by Mothbats



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Canon Compliant, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Underage Drinking, or at least trying very hard to be where I can, will add more tags when they become relevant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:48:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 119,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5516150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothbats/pseuds/Mothbats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Psycho Mantis: the rise and fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting up any fic I've written, and boy is this a doozy. /sweating nervously  
> I usually only write for myself, but there's not much substantial in the way of this pairing so I figured I should share what I have (although it will be awhile before we get there, talk about slow burn). Also because posting it is the only way I'll stop going back and rewriting the damn thing a million times. I really hope someone out there likes it.
> 
> Jarek here is the true name I've given to Psycho Mantis/Tretij Rebenok, because it is really hard to write this much and not give him some name or another. There is no particular meaning behind it, other than I thought it was nice and easy to write/pronounce.

It had begun simply enough, as most things that later grow out of control tend to.

Well, in truth, it had started long before now, in smaller ways that were easy to dismiss. Jarek didn’t believe in magic, or the supernatural; he was just a poor boy from a farming village in the middle of nowhere, someplace so remote even he wasn’t even entirely sure if he could point it out accurately on a map. Czechoslovakia in the bigger sense, he knew, stuck somewhere between Usti nad Labem and Karlovy Vary regions, though it never much mattered to him to be able to pinpoint a town of no particular importance.

The village was inconsequential to the world, so far out into the hills that paved roads didn’t exist in such a place. It was a village that was lost in time, with Jarek having observed the larger offerings of the world only once or twice, when his father brought him along to Prague or Liberec on some business or another. Sometimes things there seemed like they could maybe be magic, although any mention of it to his father left him reprimanded for being foolish.

Yet even with all those marvels, he knew that whatever was happening to him wasn’t like that at all, wasn’t normal. Jarek had always been an emotional child, empathetic to a strange degree that was like understanding a person as though they had told him their feelings plainly. He considered it a side effect of dealing with his father, needing to know how to read the man’s violent moods to know when to stay away. Yet these days this empathy was evolving as if it were a living thing in Jarek’s head, seeking out the minds of others even when he preferred to be alone. 

Fortunately, as most houses were spaced for ample farmland between, Jarek rarely saw others outside of trips to the village proper, where meager shops were run from the bottom floors of houses or stalls. At this time of year there were no other children besides himself left, the rest having been sent off to the city for schooling; his father was vehemently against Jarek going, a strange paranoia coming over him about something or other to do with Soviet ideology brainwashing children. 

He had always been a little funny about that, but in truth Jarek didn’t mind staying back so much. His empathy and shyness alongside his small stature made him a frequent target for the other boys to pick on, their minds as abrasive as their fists. To have to live with them in a strange city, full of people… it would be bad if he had to be exposed to so many for so long. Nowadays he would get such severe headaches from being out in the village for an extended time, complaining about the noise even if it were rather quiet. 

But things in the town were changing, picking up when December began and the mood only becoming more energetic as Christmas neared. Walking at his father’s heels to do errands, Jarek could feel their excitement like a palpable energy, parents eagerly meeting with their children who had been gone to the nearest city for school until now. Even if it made his head ache, their good moods were infectious, which made trailing after his father not so boring of an afternoon.

“Pay attention, Jarek.” His father’s voice broke through the din in his head, a hand at his shoulder pulling him along from where he had gotten distracted by a Christmas display in a shop window. “I have to go meet someone, so here’s the list for the store, and this one is for the butcher. And this should be enough to cover both.” His father pressed the two lists and some koruna into his hands. “Go straight home after. I’ll be back to make dinner tonight.” 

There was always an unspoken meaning to his father’s words that Jarek could pick up, a distinct lack of care for what his son got up to when he wasn’t around, though he would become furious if Jarek wandered away and disobeyed instruction. Often Jarek would go and help one of the aging farmers, Christoph, with his fields and animals for a little money or a meal when his father vanished for a time; which he tended to do with greater frequency these days, now that Jarek was getting old enough to do most things for himself with a little direction. But without money, he would have to rely on the work to be fed when his father decided to go on such abrupt trips.

Jarek merely nodded his head in response, not one given to talking unless necessary, and his father straightened his back before heading off without another word. Their exchanges felt more like the ones between strangers than father and son, but that was just how things were; it would be unusual if things were to change at this point. Jarek briefly considered taking the money and buying a small meal for himself and saving the rest, since if his father did take off he would need to ration it, and it wasn’t like the man would remember how much he gave him anyway. 

As a self-proclaimed artist, he always claimed he was going to meet patrons, though Jarek doubted It. His father didn’t paint often, had never sold a piece of art to Jarek’s knowledge, but the boy was somewhat thankful for it; when he did paint, terrible emotions would swirl unwanted into his head, that left them both in bad moods for days after. Instead, he spent most of the days Jarek caught him writing something. There was no real way for him to know what, since his father hadn’t bothered to teach him how to read or write much of anything beyond his own name. He was ashamed of himself for it, though at this point he was too embarrassed to let his inability be known, or ask his father to help him.

Beyond his disregard for his son’s education, his father was already something of an unpredictable and intimidating man, angry or desolate at the drop of a hat, occasionally gone for days before showing up haggard or drunk or both. Even now Jarek could tell his father was on edge, worried about something he couldn’t quite identify, and he was starting to get the sense his father would not be home at all tonight. 

But to risk his father’s wrath seemed too dangerous for now, and he could get both trips done relatively fast if he hurried. If his father didn’t come back, the food could still be saved and Christoph would surely have something for him to do since the cold weather didn’t agree with his old bones anymore. The other reason to not take too long made itself also readily apparent as he wound through the crowds alone, their noises amplifying painfully in his head. They gossiped about the world, each other, and more annoyingly, Jarek, as they saw him walk by. 

It was no secret to him that they thought he was too stupid to go to school or even talk, and that was why his father kept him at home and sent him to work with Christoph. The fact that his father was also an odd recluse didn’t help him either; the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it? They were never particularly kind about it, to speak so plainly when he was around, like he was too stupid to understand that, either. Yet when he would turn to look at them, a glare the most he could muster for their words, they were always tight-lipped and startled. 

Even if they feigned ignorance, it wasn’t like they were entirely wrong; he couldn’t even manage to read a book alone, which at his age was nothing short of an embarrassment. At this rate he really would amount to nothing but a day laborer on a farm, lucky to scrape by when industrial pollution from the north already made things difficult enough. If there was anything else he was qualified for, he couldn’t think of it, rubbing at his eye as a new pain was blooming behind it. It was blessedly as fast as he hoped it would be to trade off the lists to the store owners and exchange them the money for whatever they brought back, his headache easing the closer he got to home.

Jarek was surprised to see he was beaten there, by none other than Christoph in fact, his stooped posture recognizable even at a distance. He was looking agitated, knocking and pacing and about to give up before he turned and realized Jarek had been standing at a short distance, silent as a wraith the whole time. His dark clothing and bright red hair made him only stand out even more against the backdrop of evergreens coated with snow, Christoph scowling at him.

“Bah! How many times everyone tell you, not to sneak up on an old man?” He groused in his thick German accent, pulling his jacket around himself tighter. The majority of his muscles had withered, providing him with little other protection from the cold. “Put those away, then you help me! There are things to do, and it’s too cold for my hands to do quickly!”

As rough as Christoph could be, Jarek tried not to mind him; at least he spoke what he felt, though he muttered in German quite a lot. To be around him for an extended period and do his work required Jarek to learn some measure of it as well, though he rarely spoke it out loud. Christoph wouldn’t use it around anyone else either, and Jarek wondered if he even taught his sons German or had them stick only to Czech; it seemed there was a lot of bad blood he didn’t fully understand that kept Christoph holding his heritage at a distance, but it was nice to learn something new, even when Christoph was always getting frustrated with his lack of understanding.

After completing his original task he followed Christoph the short walk back to his house, with the old man grumbling about how Jarek’s father was gone again. It was almost nice how Christoph took up for him, but the cantankerousness was rarely in Jarek’s favor. He led Jarek to the grain shed first, situated next to the house and lit by a bare bulb that was more wishful thinking than helpful. It always managed to smell musty and make him sneeze. Around the side was a waiting wooden cart, which would be attached to the horse come tomorrow, he believed. Christoph took a moment to brush away the snow that had gathered on it before going in.

“Lots to take into town tomorrow morning, so we must load the cart tonight. Both of these stacks.” Christoph put a hand on the canvas bag, patting it lightly. “I’ll pull from the top, you take it out to the cart.” He turned, and Jarek waited, the grain towering above even Christoph’s head; he needed a stepstool to be able to get his hands around the first bag, wobbling a little too much for Jarek’s nerves as he got it down. It wasn’t any better when it was handed off, Jarek himself becoming unsteady under the bulk. The bag felt like it weighed nearly as much as him, and he struggled to take it to the wagon and push it toward the back.

After only a few of them, Jarek could feel his arm muscles screaming in protest, hardly able to keep up with the old man. As another was loaded into his arms, he nearly buckled under its weight and struggled to stay upright, straightening his back and gripping it so hard he had to screw his eyes shut as he walked back to the cart, all his concentration on keeping the bag from falling. To his shock, the bag began to feel lighter in his arms, and he opened his eyes, panicked that it was dripping grain even though he heard nothing. He was even more surprised that there was nothing to see, except that the bag seemed to be now light as a feather between his hands, almost hovering between them. 

He stared at it, eyes widening in disbelief. In front of the cart, he was unseen by Christoph, who was probably taking a breather as well, which was why he wasn’t calling his helper to hurry it up. Focused on the bag, he turned it easily, pushed it through the air and watched it float as though without gravity into the wagon. As soon as he looked away, it settled onto the rest of the bags with a groan of the wood, back to its usual self. Jarek looked at his hands in wonder; what was that about?

“Jarek! Do not dally!” Christoph finally spoke up, and he skittered back to his place, the spell broken. It felt like he had been lost in time, or freed from a strange dream. He let nothing on of his experience as he came up beside Christoph again, watching him step back up to take another bag. Although, if he really could do something like make the grain lighter, he ought to do it for Christoph’s sake; the poor man was trying to hold it together, but Jarek could see he was just as tired as he was.

As Christoph wrapped his arms around another sack, Jarek focused intently on it, trying to recall how he had felt before. His teeth clenched with concentration, jaw set as Christoph seemed to lift it with far more ease. He went through the same motions as Jarek, looking for a leak before writing it off in confusion, handing it down. Jarek could feel a trill of excitement ripple through him.

“Odd. That one doesn’t feel like it’s full, but it looks like it.” Christoph shrugged. The sack seemed to float for a moment before it touched his skin, Jarek grabbing it quickly before the farmer noticed. This time instead of pushing it, he kept his focus on the shifting grain inside the bag, and once out of sight, shakily levitated it into the cart while standing a few feet away. It was harder than he thought to move it the way he was thinking, his excitement at this new ability overwhelming it momentarily to the point that it shoved the bag with such force into the cart to threaten its rupture. 

Jarek gasped, jumping up to check it then fell back in relief. It was fine, though he knew he should definitely be more careful. This new thing could very well be dangerous, and he had just proved how little control he really had over it. He hesitated to call it magic, had no real word for it at all; but it certainly seemed like something that he should keep to himself, until he could be sure that it wouldn’t become a nuisance for others. 

But like he had just used it, that would be fine, right? After all, Christoph looked so relieved to not have to heft so much weight, and Jarek really did feel terribly for not being stronger so that he wouldn’t have to. He was so accustomed to feeling useless that to potentially do something that would actually be helpful, without setting them back… it would be something of a first. 

He stayed cautious, flexing his fingers and keeping all his focus forward, finished loading the first stack of grain into the cart and watched Christoph start on the next. The man was starting to look quite pleased with himself, possibly because he was no longer struggling so much with the weight. It was a nice feeling, Jarek thought, relaxing when he should have retained focus; Christoph swayed on his stool, the bag in his hands suddenly much heavier than he was used to, upsetting the balance of the rest when he reached out to the stack and grabbed on, pulling several down at once.

Jarek leapt back, tried to regain his focus and grab the grain before it cause more damage and instead found his emotional state led only to them flying away from his hands and into Christoph, the combined weight knocking him from his perch and sending him crashing down with the bags falling on top. It was so sudden Jarek stood frozen, stunned with a feeling like the wind had been knocked out of him shot through his chest before he launched in to help.

The bags had fallen mostly onto Christoph’s torso, leaving his feet visible from Jarek’s end and not much else. Jarek felt as though he couldn’t breathe, not trusting his power again in that moment and left pulling at the bags of grain with hands barely able to grasp them through the shaking, having to heave all his meager weight into each pull and only just managing to roll the top sack off the pile before he even thought to look at Christoph proper.

It was clear he had been knocked out by the blow; his eyes were closed and his face was pale, and it looked like a small pool of blood was oozing from the back of his head onto the concrete. Grain momentarily forgotten, Jarek bent next to the farmer, cold hands pressed to the skin of his neck and feeling nothing else but what heat was left fading rapidly in the chill of the evening air.

Tears were misting in Jarek’s eyes now, refusing to accept that this man who he felt closer to than his own father was now lying dead from something like this; he continued to pull off the sacks until the rough canvas felt like it would tear off the pads of his fingers, sobbing at the known futility of it all. 

Beneath his hands, he could barely focus his ability enough to pull the bags, his mind unsteady and mostly useless. As he grabbed one after the other, they barely responded at all, and one even tore itself in half when he tried to move it mentally, violent and sudden. The discovery startled Jarek so that he forgot his place for a moment, his hair and the floor covered in the bag’s spilled contents. 

He looked at his trembling, canvas-burnt hands in astonishment, momentarily distracted before brushing it away; he let himself grasp at that terrified, vicious center and throw or destroy the remaining grain sacks until Christoph was fully revealed, surrounded by the torn canvas and piles of wheat that were becoming uselessly crushed as Jarek leaned forward, still trying to find a trace of hope. 

The one person in town he felt close to, whole, but still dead, Jarek’s scrambling hands confirmed over his chest. What did he even do now? Fat tears continued to roll down his face and onto Christoph’s work shirt, small water stains blooming as Jarek continued his descent into despair. He really was only a helpless child, dirt and dust smeared across his face and arms and stuck fast with his crying. 

He had no idea how long he was there, holding the torn remains of a dead man’s work in grimy hands, but he could hear footsteps as the dusk began to settle in, turning around to see his father silhouetted in the doorway. There was a momentary pause as both of them took stock of the situation; Jarek could feel his father’s intense gaze penetrating him down to his core, feeling so much smaller than he already was, the man’s expression shifting from annoyance to shock and now, something Jarek couldn’t figure out. It was like an emptiness, cold and calculating. He hiccupped and turned his eyes away, feeling that flare of tired anger despite not looking directly at his father shortly before a hand on his collar dragged him up from his place on the floor.

“Goddammit boy, just… Just get out of here. Go home, and wash that face of yours!” He all but snarled, tossing Jarek out of the shed with such force that he nearly stumbled into the dirt, hands catching painfully on the sharp gravel. He ran all the way, chest heaving and breath wheezing between sobs. His heart ached for multiple reasons, and all he wanted now was to hide his shame, clenching his hands until he could feel the stretch of his wounds like painful reminders. 

In such a silent, empty house it was easy to get lost in his thoughts. He had disobeyed his father in not coming and staying home, which he would already be mad enough about before this… incident he was now dealing with. Jarek trudged to the sink, pumping frigid water onto his stinging hands. They ached, but the numbness from the cold helped. Anything to not focus on the punishment that was going to await him, as if having lost Christoph wasn’t punishment enough.

Christoph… It was his fault he was dead. Jarek’s trickery had left them both complacent, and Christoph didn’t even realize what was going on until it was Jarek who panicked and made the situation deadly. And Jarek could have stopped it if he had better control, hadn’t let his mind wander and the weight knock Christoph off balance and under the rest of the stack. It had been so sudden that even now it was hard to swallow, shivering and withholding another round of tears. 

If his father caught him in such a state, he would taunt him for acting so weak in addition to everything else. Splashing the water on his face would hopefully take some of the obvious swelling from his eyes, not leave his emotions bare to be torn apart. He was glad their house was mostly bereft of mirrors, looking up at nothing but the kitchen wall and sniffling, the clatter of kitchen utensils drawing his attention. 

Where some of them hung nearby on a drying rack, they were shivering as though alive, clanging noisily into one another. Beneath them tin canisters for seasonings also began to jump, and Jarek grabbed them, slammed them back into their places before trying to hold down the ladles and tongs. This was him, his doing; he could tell, as only the things nearest to him seemed to be affected, and it was frightening. He was changing too suddenly, and how could he expect to control this thing when it seemed to feed off his distraught emotions? 

If his father saw, surely he would be able to put two and two together. He would know Jarek had been the one to kill Christoph, and trying to imagine how his father would respond to that was enough to make a cabinet drawer jump and upend its contents into the floor, silverware spilling across the wood. Jarek leapt back as if personally attacked before quickly replacing it, trying his best to remain calm; he couldn’t give himself away to his father, not before he could control whatever was happening to him. Otherwise he might be seen as no better than a beast, indiscriminately attacking anyone who came near. This guilt would have to be his to bear alone.

Jarek had barely gotten the kitchen back into order when his father walked in, both turning to look at one another. The older man still seemed stern, withdrawn; Jarek could see a few bloodstains on the cuffs of his sleeves as he shrugged off his jacket, and swallowed nervously. Yet despite the unease, he couldn’t sense that there was any lingering anger, only frustration. Jarek remained with his back to the wall, trapped, but trying to retain composure and a façade of calm that would hopefully keep anything else from coming to life around him.

“I’m sure you’ve already realized it by the state I saw you in, but Christoph is dead,” His father began, rather nonchalant in his manner. Jarek ducked his head, breathing deep. He didn’t want to cry again. “They’ve taken his body to the church and closed his farm, someone will be notifying his sons to come to town and deal with his property in the morning. Until then, you need to stay away from it; someone else will go to tend to the animals.” 

The man pulled out a seat at the table, sat down and sighed. Jarek wasn’t quite sure what to make of this, edging toward the doorway to the stairs, eager to flee before anything else went wrong. He was very quickly caught in his father’s gaze again, this time the annoyance seeping through loud and clear. 

“What did I tell you, Jarek? Maybe if you had listened and come straight home like I told you, none of this would have happened.” His voice was level, but the words were like a punch to the gut. Jarek knew it very well without being reminded, and he worried at the edges of his sweater, trying to hold everything in. His father didn’t seem impressed by his hidden eyes and lack of response, a huff of air through his teeth. 

“If you want to act like a child, then fine. Go upstairs. I’m tired enough from cleaning up your mess.” He hissed, and Jarek didn’t wait around to see what he planned to do from there. Making himself scarce, he was in his room only a few moments later, letting out a shuddering breath and shivering at the cold. There would be no dinner for him tonight, he already knew, and was better off not bothering to leave his small sanctuary until his father went out tomorrow. 

Sinking down onto his bed, Jarek looked out his frosted window to see snow falling, gently drifting down and forming a clean sheet of white. It was nice enough to focus on, instead of wondering what he would do from here. Concentrating on the snowflakes, he tried to move them as he had the grain and found it easy to turn them into swirling patterns through the air, preferring to get lost in those dancing motions than think.

Christoph’s sons… they would likely be here in a day or two after hearing of their father’s passing. Jarek had never met them, as they never came to visit, and that worried him; what would they do with the farm, with their father’s property? Just divide it up and sell it, like it was all meaningless to them? He had been told to stay away, but how could he just ignore what was to become of Christoph’s things? He especially worried for the animals, like the nag that Christoph used to plow the fields. She would be more likely to be put to death as just one more side effect of Jarek’s foolishness. The rest were still useful enough that they would be sold.

They probably didn’t care at all about the things that were left behind, be they animals or items. Even if they had grown up there, they had left it long ago, so there was no longer any attachment. And there was no way Jarek could convince them to care; he was practically a mute, still emotional from their father’s death and only a child. His own father reminding him to stay away was his way of saying that he had done enough and should keep to home so he didn’t make a bad situation worse. It wasn’t like he should have much say anyway, being the man’s murderer.

Jarek pulled away from the window, let the snow go back to choosing its own way to the ground. Would he one day become so thoughtless of this place that had been his childhood home? Based on his relationship with his father and the town, it seemed certain, and yet, he wasn’t sure if he would ever even manage to leave it. Just one more life of no consequence, trapped in mediocrity. 

If he accepted it, he would really be doomed, but he still had one chance of breaking into something bigger, looking at his sore fingers and flexing them. If there was still a chance of becoming someone useful, someone strong and able to stand on their own… he had to take it. Even if it scared him, there was really only one way to go from here. This presence wasn’t going to leave him anytime soon.

Curling his hands over his chest, he accepted his inevitable change, and began to plan how he would tame it.

* * *

The following day turned out to be more difficult to deal with than initially believed; his father spent most of the day inside, and breakfast was awkward enough before Jarek was expressly forbidden from going out. His father must have anticipated something off with his thoughts, preferred to keep an eye on him to keep him from making even more trouble. Staying cooped up wasn’t any better for his nerves, and he spent most of his time cleaning and finding that, regrettably, it did little to temper his tension.

It wasn’t until the day after, when the sons arrived, that his father allowed him out of the house to run to the market for a few things. The man was going to the farm to tell them how Christoph had died, and help them settle any final arrangements if necessary. His father telling Jarek this before they both set off was bad enough, as though he were doing this at some great personal cost because Jarek had been the one to mess up; but Jarek wondered how much of it was his father trying to vulture off some cheap property he could sell. It disgusted him, but if his father got something, then it could at least be a memory he might be allowed to keep.

Being able to see Christoph’s farm, yet knowing he couldn’t get any closer without being found out, only left his chest aching. He wondered what they were talking about now, how Christoph’s sons had taken his death. There was no way of knowing, and he might not even see them before they left town again at this rate. Trying to stay on task was difficult when his mind was constantly assaulted by the noise of people in addition to his own wandering thoughts. But there was only a little he had to accomplish, and he took his time in getting home, savoring the crunch of new snow under his boots and the crisp winter air.

The house was quiet, and Jarek could feel how intense his loneliness had become without somewhere to go and someone to stay with, who hadn’t minded his presence. What he really wanted was acknowledgement for how hard he tried, to be useful and appreciated. His father would never see him as either, only ever as a nuisance that was barely worth keeping around. If he wanted to be anything, he would have to show his father he was capable of doing something valuable.

His newfound ability… surely that was worth something. Jarek was still afraid of it a little, but with his weak stature and lack of any sort of conventional intelligence by his father’s standards, there was little else he had to offer. He had never seen anyone else able to do it, and it seemed a very practical skill with moving heavy bags. There was probably even more he could accomplish if he actually worked at it. And with the house to himself, he finally had the perfect time to work at it, and not worry about being discovered. 

Double checking the windows, he closed the curtains where he could be seen and settled in to the dimly lit kitchen. It was getting easier to levitate things, Jarek found, and he could move them even if he wasn’t directly watching, though it made it easier. It took a lot of mental focus to control more than one thing at once, spice tins and a ladle whirling around each other in a slow circle that took a lot of effort to maintain. Jarek could even open the tins mentally, so long as he took his time to pry off the lids and not spill the contents. 

It was becoming clearer that the nature of his power wasn’t just based in mental acuity and emotion, but that it really boiled down to simply wanting something enough to make it happen. His focus helped him not accidentally throw something with too much force, or destroy it in frustration when he couldn’t manage to do what he was attempting; but for the most part, all he had to do was think it, and he did it as simply as that. 

From his growing confidence, it was no stretch to decide to see if he could move himself like he did average kitchenware. It was much harder to focus on himself as the object, trying to wrap his mind around moving his body in a specific way that was like seeing himself from an outside perspective. It took time before he could manage to lift himself even an inch from the floor, but the feeling was euphoric; his power was growing, and if he could make the leap from objects to humans in only a couple days, then certainly he would become someone his father would no longer find a burden.

Sweat dripping down the side of his face, Jarek decided to call it quits before his father came home and his appearance raised more questions that he would rather not answer. He hid upstairs again until dinner, assessing his father’s mood as they sat at the table together. As always he seemed rather flat to note, distant and uncaring of Jarek’s presence. It was only after he had almost finished eating that he even spoke at all, voice sudden over the soft sounds of a symphony playing on the radio nearby.

“It seems Christoph’s sons will be selling almost everything, including the land. I suppose it doesn’t make sense for two men like that to want to ever plan to come back to a place like this.” He began, and Jarek watched him intently, waiting for more news. “They got rid of all the animals today, decided on funeral arrangements. They wanted to send him back to Germany, but we’ll see how that goes.” 

Jarek nodded solemnly; it seemed a hassle to move a body just for a burial, but it was probably better that he not see Christoph again, even for his funeral. He was still too uncertain about how his emotions interacted with his abilities. 

“Must be such a bother, having to come all the way out here during the holidays. By the time they get it all sorted and go home, Christmas will be over.” His father picked up the dishes to wash, and Jarek gnawed on his spoon, thinking. It was Christmas Eve today, wasn’t it? They didn’t usually do anything for the holiday so he tended to forget the dates, no gift exchanges or even going to church. There was no point in expecting anything from it, even less now that his father seemed annoyed with him all the time. 

“It’ll be even more irritating, trying to find something else for you to do during the day. Maybe a market stall will let you help out, if you don’t manage to screw it up.” He grumbled, as though Jarek couldn’t hear, scrubbing at a pot. His words were painful, but not incorrect; lately, it seemed Jarek couldn’t manage to do anything well enough to make his father happy. Even helping with the dishes only irritated him until he waved his son off.

“If you want to be helpful, then go clear the snow off the front step! Otherwise, it'll just be a hassle by morning.” He pointed absently at the door, and Jarek started pulling on his boots, pausing. Snow was easy to deal with, he had been practicing with the snowflakes outside for days and he could push and form them into practically anything now. His father seemed so angry, but if he showed some of his ability, maybe he would rethink his son as someone worthy of his attention. It seemed a little risky to unveil himself so soon, but… he would be lying if he told himself he wasn’t craving positive attention, now that Christoph was gone.

Dressed to go outside, he pulled gently on his father’s sleeve, feeling the irritation like steel wool to his head when he finally got his attention. The man might have huffed and puffed but he humored him after a moment, waiting in the doorway while Jarek stood in the snow proper, trying to remain level-headed for this. He had to impress, after all. He stretched his bare fingers in the cold, snowflakes burying themselves in his bright hair as he focused on the snow, trying to imagine the step beneath and then… sliding it off in a big sheet. 

It worked well, except where some caught around his feet and he kicked it aside before looking up at his father, beaming with hopeful excitement that he had not only done this marvelous thing, but that he had pulled it off without a hitch. Instead, his excitement began to fade as what he saw and felt from his father wasn’t excitement so much as it was horror; he had gone pale, looking above Jarek’s head briefly before grabbing his son’s arm and dragging him inside, door slamming behind him. 

Jarek could feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, not sure if it was his own reaction or if he was just mirroring his father now, who had stomped away and was circling as though trying to work something out in his mind. Jarek kept his back to the door, feeling that fright and wondering how it would unfold. Had he miscalculated? Was his father more disgusted with him now than ever before?

“You… you did that… with just your head?” He finally asked, and his tone hitched strangely, looking at Jarek with wide eyes. He kept his distance on the other side of the room, and Jarek nodded, fingers feeling the dips in the wood of the door, trying to remain calm. Already he could feel his mental dam wanting to shake the room. “Is that… is that all you can do?” He was cautious, still unmoving, watching his son as though he were a wild animal broken into the house. Jarek shook his head, but didn’t move anything else, too nervous. 

There was only silence between them and the tinny sound of the radio, stretching on for several moments before his father let out a dry bark of laughter. Jarek didn’t find it comforting; if anything, it unnerved him even more. He stepped away from the door slowly, circling to the side away from his father, giving him room.

“Of course… of course I would come here to maintain a low profile… only to have you try to ruin it at every turn.” He hissed, low and venomous, and Jarek froze in place. “First by being a complete fool, then by this… this freak show you’ve put on!” He stepped closer suddenly, and Jarek flinched, the anger pungent and bitter. His father grabbed him by the arms, hefted his light frame up so he couldn’t easily look away. 

“You listen, and listen carefully,” He began, and Jarek couldn’t help but stare into his eyes, feeling every wave of hatred and vitriol poured into his person. His breath caught in his throat, and he no longer felt, in that moment, entirely like himself. “You will never, ever do that again. If I see you, then you’ll be far worse than kept in the house. And if someone else sees you, you’ll be even worse than that!” He snarled, and Jarek could feel the threat in those words down to his marrow.

“The entire village already thinks you’re an idiot, but do you want to prove to them that you’re a freak as well?” He squeezed those thin arms painfully, Jarek whimpering. He felt weak, he felt smaller and more loathsome than he had ever felt before. He could tell he was crying, tears rolling down his face, unable to stop their flow any more than he could escape this situation. 

“Well? Don’t you even have anything to say for yourself? Do you even understand, or is all you’re capable of crying?” He dropped Jarek, watching him stumble back and grasp the table for support; his mind was a whirlwind of rage and hatred Jarek couldn’t comprehend, head aching as he looked back up. In truth, he didn’t understand why his father was like this, why he had never seemed to be happy with him no matter how hard he tried. Jarek could have helped, and instead he was belittled over and over. He really would have loved to understand, if he were capable of it.

Maybe the only way to understand would be to try to further connect, as much as it scared him. If his father wouldn’t tell him, would only give him the most spiteful parts of himself, then he would have to search out the answers on his own. He hadn’t done anything like this previously, but with the way his empathy worked, surely it would be similar. 

Jarek dared to look up, catching his breath and his father’s eyes for a brief moment. Something there must have been too defiant, too much like a reflection in that moment and it earned him a resounding slap to his cheek, face twisting away and the tang of blood in his mouth. Anger only mounted, and now he wasn’t sure if it was him or his father, that painful hunger to want to understand gnawing at his insides with sharp teeth. 

When Jarek looked back, he relaxed his mental barriers, allowing himself to fully feel the press of his father’s subconscious rage on his own mind and following it to the source. It felt as though time had frozen, the flood of emotion and thought swirling into his head before becoming an equal give and take. It was like having two streams of consciousness, side by side, the flow of each as two parallel rivers. 

_'Father? Father, this is…'_ Telepathy, his own voice ringing in two minds. It was unusual, but finally he could speak. His father’s astonishment was by far the most forefront of thoughts, uncomprehending, only a babble in response that was hard to decipher. _'I don’t want to hurt anyone, I just want to understand.'_ His voice was soft, wading through his father’s fears, but as Jarek sank deeper, it suddenly became more and more like drowning.

Hatred, anger, bitterness, loneliness… They swirled about, choking him, forcing their way into his mind like parasites. And worse, such dark emotions were solely for his own son. Regret, that Jarek had been left to replace his mother, seemed to be the underlying prompt of it all, every other color of emotion branching from it like ensnaring vines. 

Hatred that his son was useless, not even a proper young man, just a nobody who couldn’t even speak. Why didn’t his wife leave him someone worthy, if she had to go? To be forced to take care of him at all… He would have abandoned the boy long ago, left him in the cold if not for those eyes. The eyes of his dead wife, staring back, accusing him even now. Would anyone even know, or care, if this odd boy went missing? He still thinks of it, wondering how difficult it would be to arrange his disappearance… 

Especially now that he knows that his son is a _freak._

Jarek is screaming before he can fully register it, the connection severing with a resounding snap within his mind. His father is forced away, nose gushing with blood as though struck although Jarek could not recall lashing out. Perhaps the connection had run too deeply, pulled forth too much to the surface. His chest is heaving yet he can’t seem to breathe, clawing at his shirt uselessly. Such hatred, such anger: it was digging into his head and killing him, killing him just like his father wanted. 

He couldn’t even register that he had descended the room into chaos, the radio giving one last squawk as it was smashed by an invisible hand, metal containers being thrown with such force as to bury themselves into the walls, the sickening cracks of wooden cabinets creaking before caving. The pressure couldn’t be assuaged until he had unloaded it all: all the revulsion, all the loathing, all the horror and fear. And there seemed to be an endless well of it, sparking up inside like a roaring flame. 

He felt less himself and more a demon as the room began to catch fire around him, his father fleeing out the front and running for the rest of the village. Everyone would be in one place tonight, celebrating Christmas Eve. Everyone: with their senseless abhorrence, their prejudiced, bullying thoughts that had anchored their claws inside of him over the years he had spent in this hopeless place. Jarek became less a boy and more a conduit for those emotions, seeking to end the way they scraped at his mind and forced their way in. 

…Starting with his father, whose cognizance was still pressing against his, panicked like a prey animal. Jarek’s feet were no longer on the ground, the toe of his boots grazing briefly before being lifted away and over the threshold, the house becoming consumed by flames behind him. The heat didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would, smoke and embers drifting from his clothing. No, the only thing that bothered him was soon enough to be silenced.

Soon he would have relief.

* * *

It was far too hot, his face and body pained, the taste of salt and iron in his mouth and on his lips when Jarek began to return to his senses. He felt spent, emptier than he could ever remember, so exhausted that it took time to even open his swollen eyes to realize what had become of his world. The crackle of the high flames reached him, his weak state noticing how loud it sounded against the backdrop of his silent mind. Even so much as sitting up took all his might, hands grasping at the slippery stones under him. 

Dazed, gasping: his head pounded, for once, for an entirely new reason. Blood dripped from his face, covered his hands, coating the streets. He couldn’t even breathe from his nose, and a tender touch to his face only smeared more blood, something stuck into his skin Through his cheek and pain blossoming bright when his fingers brushed it, mouth filled with a thick coppery taste. A house on fire in the distance crumbled, too broken to continue standing, the sound of his own destruction bringing him slowly back to reality.

His reality. This was him, his doing. The memory flooded back into his mind, recalling his rampage in snippets of red, screams, the crunch of bone and the spattering of blood. It felt like recalling a movie, hazy, not entirely real, but he knew. This was his power, unleashed, unchecked. Freak did not even begin to describe him, no: he was closer to a monster now. Yet he could not even manage to cry, as spent as he was. 

It took some time to stumble to his feet, surveying the damage further. Despite the time of year, in the middle of town, surrounded by flames, he felt like he was burning alive in his own personal Hell. His clothing stuck to him uncomfortably and he could see that it had burned in places. His own hands, even, were red and black, blistered, and any movement brought into startling clarity how deep it all went. How could he survive in this place reduced to rubble? Would anyone even come looking?

He turned away from the fire, started walking. It was becoming agonizing, his pain coming into focus with every step that jostled his burnt and aching body in the silence of his thoughts. There was snow, deep and close, the edges turning to slush from the emanating heat. The cold could at least take some of the discomfort off his wounds; bring his mind from the mist it was lost in to decide his next move if he managed to survive the night. 

He got only a few steps in before he collapsed into a drift of white, looking up into the dark sky tinged with orange and embers. A few snowflakes alighted upon his lashes, his stinging cheek and nose. The cold lulled him, hands digging into the ice for relief, coughing from smoke inhalation. 

If this was the end, Jarek thought dimly, eyes closing and savoring the calm sea of his mind, maybe that would be okay. He had already lost everything, everyone who would have mattered. It was the most at peace he had ever felt, cushioned by the snowfall, his previous life washed out. The world fell quiet, and so did he.

* * *

“Hey, I think there’s a survivor over here! Looks like a kid!”

…There was nausea, disgust and fear, confusion surging low in his rising consciousness. Who…?

“A kid? Holy shit… Are you sure he’s alive? His face…”

“It looks like he’s breathing…” A spike of pity, a glove touching his tender skin of his throat. They pressed lightly before withdrawing, but even a feather would have left him in agony now. Jarek groaned, attempted to shift, no longer comfortable protected by the snow. His mind pressed outwards, could feel the presence of at least two people around him. Maybe more, the thoughts that drifted, brushed against his mind too muddled to be distinctive.

“He’s alive! Quick, get the stretcher, let Alexander know…” 

There was no certainty, no energy to so much as lift his head or open his eyes in the face of these newcomers. Their hands pulled him this way and that, bracing him, commentary constant and the congestion of noise began to rouse Jarek further. It was immediately regrettable, every step into consciousness a new ache to uncover. 

He was being carried, then swaying uncomfortably in an ambulance, whimpering and clenching his jaw as they began the journey to the nearest hospital. He might not be able to see the extent of his own injuries now, but from the minds of the EMTs, he could sense their discomfort with what they saw. Were his sins written on his skin, did they know that the massacre was by his hands? He couldn’t help the whimper that rose from his throat, trying to turn away only to be meant with gentle restraint.

“Christ, someone get the kid a painkiller, he needs it. Put it in the IV…” A cool hand rested against his forehead; careful, more gentleness in that one motion than he could ever recall receiving in his life. Perhaps they really didn’t know what had happened. The painkiller began to take hold soon after, the dull squeal of the siren starting to fade along with the pain seeping into all parts of him. A gentle tide, descending him back into the quiet dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Jarek didn’t truly come to until almost New Year’s, having been in and out of consciousness for days. It was an endless parade of doctors and nurses, drugs coursing through him that made him feel heavy and useless. It was preferable to sleep painlessly than to be stuck in his thoughts, replaying what he could remember of that night of fire. 

He had been wrapped so thoroughly in bandages that he wondered where they ended and he began, his fingers that hadn’t been burnt dragging over the edges in slow circles. Nobody spoke to him in that first day awake, likely figuring him still too out of it to be able to even comprehend their words. Reaching out to the minds of the nurses provided no clues, other than the ever-present pity. 

It was on the holiday evening itself that he finally felt well enough to move on his own, sitting up in his bed and wanting to scream in pain almost immediately as he pulled the oxygen mask off his face. The hospital was mostly quiet, the voices of all within only an afterthought to his own distractions. His skin felt stuck, dry and sore and aching. His face, if at all possible, felt even worse. 

Jarek could tell there was something wrong, the white of the bandages on almost all edges of his vision. It was with some difficulty that he managed to slide from bed, nearly collapsing when he put all his weight onto his legs and needing to partially mentally elevate himself to stay upright. Beneath the paper-thin gown he could see the damage of them; his feet were mostly untouched, but his shins were wrapped, left knee splinted into place, likely to keep him from splitting open whatever wound he sustained. 

The crippled boy was thankful to be the only one in the room, the other bed blessedly empty to spare what little was left of his pride as he hobbled to the nearby sink and mirror. He couldn’t even recognize himself under all the gauze; his hair flat and plastered to his skull, singed in places, disgustingly unwashed and stark against the white of the bandages. His eyes and left cheek seemed to be mostly unharmed, only a few mild marks from embers, whereas his exposed throat had been less lucky with painful blisters and marred skin. 

But it was the remainder that worried him, his clumsy fingers trying their best to delicately remove them and survey the damage. The tape dislodged uncomfortably from his other cheek, lip, and nose, the gauze stuck with dried blood that brought bright flashes of pain before Jarek dropped it into the sink.

When Jarek had wondered if his sin had been written upon him before, he had not imagined it to be so visceral - could not have imagined the extent of the damage, even when he had been inspecting the minds of the EMTs. He was more a stranger to himself than ever, his stomach and mind revolting at the image staring back. 

One scar, thick and gnarled, started beneath his cheekbone, curling slightly outward before connecting with the corner of his burnt mouth, his upper and lower lips needing a few more stitches of their own. It was an irritated shade of red, peppered with what looked like more burn marks, scratched across his face in angry lines. Inspection with his tongue to the inside of his cheek revealed that it had cut through his cheek entirely, the indent of the scar likely permanent. It was the same side where his father had slapped him, and he imagined he could see the outline of that hand in the curve of it, the ghost of that man living on in a terrible memory even now.

However, the worst of the damage was the clotted, scabbed and scarred mess that was his nose. The bridge of it still remained, tapering down partially before it became nothing but still spongey tissue, some fresh blood dribbling down from where the healing had been disturbed by taking the bandage off. The lines were clean, meaning the removal had likely been surgical in nature – something had happened that night that had required it, he could remember the pain of it, but not the ultimate action that left it in such a state. Even as his emotions began to spike, he wanted to laugh in disheartened agony; a monstrous face to suit the monster inside himself.

Instead, he began to sink to the floor, wanting to look away from it, spitting bile into his hands while his head spun out of control. This power was overwhelming; had he ever really controlled it, or was it using him now? Distantly Jarek could hear the mirror cracking and splitting, the glass bottles in the cabinet in the corner of the room shattering as though shot through. His nose was bleeding more profusely with each new surge of energy, the salt in his tears burning his skin, the room coming down around him. 

For once, he heard the physical voices of the doctors before he felt the panicked press of their minds, people bustling into the room at the cacophonous sounds. The panic shifted from confusion to fear like a painful kaleidoscope in the boy’s head, grinding his teeth and unwittingly toppling a cabinet in their direction in an attempt to silence it. Couldn’t they just leave him, let him wallow in sorrow and pain alone in his own head? Instead the nurses shrieked, unable to come any closer without risking harm but still invading by their mere presence. 

Turning toward them where he was collapsed on the floor, blood pooling slick under his hands, Jarek felt that same nostalgic terror he had only felt days before, even the blood in his mouth a final reminder in the moments before two orderlies stepped into the chaos, swiftly moving for him in a way that immediately set him to alarm, like predators moving in for the kill.

Jarek scrabbled for a purchase on the tiled floor, his hands stinging as he tried to pull himself away by any means only to find himself grabbed and hauled backwards. There was no room for gentleness when they held his arms, a needle pressing into the juncture of his neck. Their grip was crushing and their minds no more soothing, though it mattered little as he began to weaken, breathing heavy and shaking terribly as it all faded out.

* * *

Jarek was not surprised that on his next awakening, he was being held to the bed with tactically-placed straps, tight enough to keep him bound yet not restrictive to his healing body. He had presented himself as a danger to everyone around him; why wouldn’t they take precautions? Even his head felt oddly fogged, unable to focus well on much of anything. Perhaps they had started drugging him, too, something extra in his IV to keep him from becoming dangerous again. There was little he could see in this state, other than the white curtains that surrounded the side of his bed, and a small rectangular window near to the ceiling, too small to fit through.

Fading in and out of sleep made it that much harder to determine if there was any sort of routine he could use to count the days, his mind reaching out to see if anyone remained close to this room. He had been moved from the previous ward, he could tell, to a smaller, less easily-damaged area. They were afraid of him, rightly so; Jarek would be afraid too. Other than the occasional nurse or doctor who would come in to change his bandages and apply medication, he felt utterly, completely alone, their minds choked with uncertainty and not much else for reaching out to.

There was no telling how much time passed before anything of note happened. In his time trapped in his bed, Jarek had taken to using his abilities to move things as practice, what little there was he could use. He had begun trying to undo the straps on his bed with his mind when the thick metal door swung open, a doctor accompanied by two men in odd uniforms following. 

They all left him with a strange sense of unease, the two men conversing quietly in Russian while the doctor looked over his patient, confirming that Jarek was awake but perhaps “not all there” due to his healing requiring so much medication. A small lie: Jarek could read in that moment that he was indeed being lightly drugged, though it was only a drop in the bucket aside from the painkillers and antibiotics coursing through him. It seemed they eased off his dosage today, in preparation for these visitors. He could feel that, too, in the way his skin itched painfully beneath the bandages.

“As I said, he was the only living person we found at the town…” The doctor began, stepping back from the bed with chart in hand. “He hasn’t spoken since we picked him up, likely due to trauma, but he has shown awareness, as well as the, ah, incident we referred to.” The doctor was looking tense, whereas the other two were appeared more interested now. It was difficult to focus on any one of them, Jarek’s head too stuffed with cotton to even get a reliable read. 

“Is there any proof of these things? He seems rather…” One soldier spoke, his accent thick. His eyes raked over Jarek in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable. Like an animal being judged for slaughter. “...unassuming, to say the least. Perhaps because he looks like he can hardly move?”

“That is for his protection, as well as our staff.” The doctor piped up fast. “He woke up on his own and removed some bandages, disturbed the healing process, and lashed out at two nurses who came to assist. Why, he even threw a cabinet at them! But without so much as lifting a finger!” He exclaimed, making it sound so much more exciting than what it was. In his anguished state, Jarek had only managed to topple it towards them, not fling it like a child’s toy. Nonetheless, the two others were looking skeptical now.

“Not that we do not believe you,” The second man finally spoke, his voice quiet. “But we cannot just take your word that he can do these things. Can you provide us a demonstration of these powers?” They all turned to focus on him, their combined attention like an immediate headache. The pain made him want to lash out, briefly considering pushing the men away with his ability but ultimately remaining silent. The doctor was beginning to look nervous, fiddling with one of the straps at his patient’s wrist. Jarek didn’t want to dive into his mind beyond the scraping that was already forcing its way in; but the man’s emotional state was high-strung, which made little sense without knowing why. 

“He might just need a little more time to wake up… I’ll remove the restraints, it’s probably fine.” He assured his guests, who were looking less and less convinced by the moment. Although his ankles remained bound, the doctor helped Jarek to sit up, the boy groaning in pain but still mostly unmoving, arms limp and head hung, the burnt strands of hair stuck to his skin with sweat. His skin felt as if it were stretched too tightly over a canvas, threatening to rip any second.

Their expectations were deafening, pain exacerbated, Jarek’s dull eyes flicking between all of them. What would they do with him if they saw? They likely suspected that he was the cause of the village fire, people strangled in the streets, choked on their own blood. Would they kill him so gruesomely as well? He swallowed thickly, weighing his options. 

In the end, what sort of life would he have without a home or family? A freak, an orphan with a deformed face… He would be lucky to have an existence at all after the hospital deemed him healthy. His power made him apprehensive; it was too volatile and dangerous, but it might be his only means of escape as well. Whether that meant into death or otherwise, it was better than choosing to do nothing and dying like a dog in the streets. He slowly slid his least injured hand up, feeling the uncomfortable tug of bandages as he flexed his fingers.

He pulled at the first thing that caught his eye: a gold-capped pen in the man’s uniform pocket that glinted in the fluorescent lighting. It offered no resistance, the visitors watching with some shock as it floated out of his pocket and into Jarek’s hand, the pen settling with more weight than anticipated. It had only taken a moment, his hand closing around the cool metal. Watching them closely, he saw their surprise settle into calm, exchanging a glance. The man whose pen was taken stepped forward to the bedside, sliding it out of Jarek’s hand with a too-tight grin. It sent a shiver down his spine.

“I think that will be sufficient. You said there were no survivors other than this boy?” The other piped up suddenly, Jarek relieved to have the attention back on the doctor. “If that is so, then he’ll become a ward of your already-burdened state. We’ll be happy to take him off your hands, once he is well enough for travel.” Then it was Jarek’s turn to be shocked, eyes widening as he glanced back up. He wasn’t positive he wanted to go with them, something about their demeanor off-putting, but he wasn’t so sure he had much choice either. “There’s a school in Moscow, for children like him. He’ll have a better life there than he would here.”

The doctor could only shrug, looking squirrely as he fiddled with the chart. “I don’t control such decisions, but I do agree that it would be better for him to have a place to go…” He looked down at Jarek, who managed a blank expression, turning his eyes away. He didn’t want to see into the doctor’s mind more than he already did. 

“He’s healing a little slowly, likely due to all the damage, and some malnourishment. At this rate, it could be months before he’s well enough to leave the hospital, much less extensive travel.” He scribbled a note into the paperwork, putting the chart back into its slot at the end of the bed. The men nodded their understanding.

“There is no rush. I’m sure your local police haven’t even gotten around to questioning him yet about that night, if this is the first he’s been up.” One said blithely, ignoring the way Jarek flinched at the mention. “We have some of our own questions, too. We found some things in the rubble that are… well.” He smiled, but there was no mirth there. “I think we’ve bothered your patient enough for now, we should leave him to rest. If you wouldn’t mind escorting us out, doctor?”

“Ah, of course.” The doctor seemed just as relieved to have them go, turning back to Jarek momentarily. “I’ll leave your restraints undone for now, if you can say you’ll stay in bed and not touch the bandages. We wouldn’t want another repeat, right?” Jarek immediately disliked the condescension in that tone, but nodded regardless. “Good. If you’ll follow me, gentlemen…” They filed out with only a glance back at the bed, Jarek avoiding their eyes as the door shut behind them. In the empty hall, he could still hear the voices and footsteps echoing long after they were gone. 

Once silence reigned again, Jarek’s first task was set to removing the ankle restraints. His bandaged fingers were thick and clumsy, somewhat tender, but he managed with some effort. Being free of them didn’t feel much better, but at least he no longer felt like a prisoner in the bed. Perhaps being obedient here would garner him less isolation and fear from everyone coming through. 

Although, he would likely be leaving soon enough anyway; and to Moscow, of all places. Something about those men told him that they would be removing him as soon as he was no longer a complete health risk. Were his father still alive, he would likely balk at the idea of his son being taken away by the Soviets, probably even throw another one of his famous fits despite having wanted Jarek gone this whole time… 

Jarek paused in his thoughts, curling slightly inwards and touching the bandage on his cheek. That’s right, his father was dead now. By his own hand, no less. It still felt surreal to think of the damage he had caused, no clear picture in his mind to remember the end result of his razing upon his village. He couldn’t even remember his father beyond that last look before he ran from their house, filled with disgust and fear, the anger still ringing clear as a bell in Jarek’s head. There was no body that he could recall seeing either, for his father or anyone. 

Perhaps it was better to put it from his mind for now; it had been in defense after all, hadn’t it? His father would have killed him. And everyone else would have sided with him if they had known what Jarek was capable of, would have called him a freak too.

A sudden sob choked at him, eyes misting with tears again before he pushed those thoughts away, choosing to lie back down, get under the blanket. He was becoming tired, anyway, and he wouldn’t get better without more sleep. He pressed his palm to his eye, feeling the sting of his wounds and clenching his jaw.

If his father hated the Soviets, then he would gladly go with them. Surely it couldn’t be worse, and the idea of going to an actual school was exciting. He could have a life with all the things he lacked here, he could learn to read and write… Even if it was in Russian, what had his home done for him that made it so much better? His cautious eagerness was his only company as his tears dried and his eyes closed, giving way to sleep.

* * *

The next month passed by in a gradually lessening haze, the doctors finding Jarek’s docile nature trusting enough to not tie him back down once he was more aware. While there was no questioning about the night in the village from anyone, the two men who visited previously came back twice more to check on his progress, seeming pleased that it was coming along well. 

It was actually enjoyable to have them come around, Jarek appreciative of their interest in his healing; but he knew from the gentle prodding of their thoughts that there wasn’t much of anything deeper than that. He was a job to be tended to, and after transport it was unlikely he would see them again. Still, it was nice to feel some semblance of normalcy, to think that someone cared about him and his wellbeing. It was almost like having friends.

“The doctors say you’re nearly ready to be discharged. That must be exciting, right?” One of them, Nikolai, asked, shuffling a deck of cards in his hand after pulling several out. At their last visit, he had been surprised to discover Jarek knew no card games, and endeavored to teach him something. Jarek’s hands had healed well enough to hold the cards, though they were stiff and a little difficult to bend. 

Most of his burns had been second degree, fortunately, with minimal scarring and pain after the majority had healed. Parts of his back and legs, and small assorted bits here and there on his arms and hands, hadn’t been so lucky, however, and he could feel the uncomfortable way his skin was pulled tight at any movement, no elasticity despite the best efforts at healing it. Patches of his face above his right eye and along his nose also still had a blotchy redness to it that he wasn’t sure would go away, self-conscious about his various scarring.

After the first visitation, Jarek had started receiving extra injections that he suspected had something to do with his rapid healing time, though he couldn’t say for sure. But staying in the bed was still the most comfortable option, with an instrument table pulled between them for the cards. “Even your eyebrows have grown back! Well, one has. Mostly. Anyway, I’m sure being in a hospital for a couple of months is no fun at all.” Nikolai mused, unaffected by his companion’s wandering mind.

Jarek nodded, still not relaxed enough to share in his telepathy. If he spoke mind to mind with them, it would really only end up opening more dialogues he didn’t particularly feel like answering as well. Perhaps at the school, where there would be others like him, he could talk without upsetting people.

They had accepted him as a possible mute, and didn’t pester him with questions beyond what could be answered with a yes or no, especially after determining his limited reading and writing capabilities meant that he couldn’t write his responses with much clarity either; he had given his name and little else. He scratched at the edge of the large gauze pad that was taped over his nose, watching the shuffle with tired eyes.

“It must be hard, staying here after everything that happened. A fresh start is just what you need.” Nikolai smiled, prepping the deck for a game of svoyi koziri, something he had attempted walking Jarek through before but had not quite managed yet. At the very least Nikolai had removed the 7s and 8s from the deck, knowing how frustrated his opponent became last time. Pulling a card from each suit, he held them out, waiting for the boy to pick his two from them. It only took a moment, Jarek’s fingers tapping their worn surface. “Hearts and diamonds, huh? With hearts as your trump again, I’m guessing.” 

“Out of all things, I don’t know why you teach him that instead of something useful,” The other man, Mikhail, piped up from his corner of the small room where he sat reading a book. The cover was partially torn, leading to no clues of its contents. “You already know he can hardly read, maybe you should start with that.” He huffed, turning a page without looking up at all. Jarek could feel the tug of annoyance from him, though it was a small flame that puttered out quickly.

“If you wanted a three player game, you could have just said so.” Nikolai’s toothy grin was a little less friendly that time, despite Jarek being the only one who could see it. “Besides, who says cards aren’t a useful skill? If anything it helps pass the time. Gets people relaxed, you know?” He began dealing half the cards face up, setting the second pile aside. “I know you and I have talked over card games plenty of times.”

“Except your partner there doesn’t talk.” Mikhail butted in, eyes flicking up briefly. Jarek frowned, wondering if maybe he should search his mind a little more deeply to figure out what had his guest so sour. Mikhail had never been overly friendly, preferring to stand in the background while his more energetic colleague led any one-sided discussions or antics, but this was beyond that.

“You always say I like to talk too much, having an audience is just the thing then, isn’t it?” He pulled his own suit cards, the spaces and clubs, from the face up cards. “Besides, I don’t think our friend here minds so much. Do you?” Jarek went about pulling his own suit cards to match, shaking his head, happy in some small part to be called such. 

“There, you see? Everybody is happy with the arrangement! Except you, I suppose.” Nikolai dutifully ignored the rumbling in the corner that sounded like Russian, instead focused on reciting the rules again as they began the game. It was easier this time and on his subsequent play, though he didn’t manage to beat his teacher. After the third game, Nikolai collected the cards, handing them to Jarek.

“It’s been awhile since we saw you use that kinesis ability of yours. In Moscow, you’ll be training it more, but for now…” He gestured to the stack between Jarek’s hands. “Try shuffling that without using your hands. It’ll be good practice.” Jarek blinked owlishly at the request, looking at the deck before spreading it out somewhat between his hands. 

It was difficult to focus on so many cards at once, barely able to keep them sorted; not only that, but he still felt mildly uncomfortable showcasing it in front of others. Although his ability was no secret these days, it still made most people uneasy to see. Yet Nikolai seemed honest, and didn’t appear to have a change of heart as Jarek tried to work through his task, moving several slowly at a time, having to use his hands to hold some when they faltered.

“With our infrequent visits, it’s been difficult up until now to talk about what had happened to you the night before you were brought here.” His card teacher stated rather casually, no doubt noticing the way Jarek’s power fumbled a few cards into his lap. He could feel Mikhail looking up now too, eyes a new pressure in his head. 

“Of course, it was a very gruesome scene… nobody likes to talk about it. But there are a few things that just don’t add up about the mess.” Jarek could feel his pulse rising, the cards twisting ominously in the air to match his shifting mental state. He could tell they were doing this on purpose, looking for something. 

“No survivors but you… the attacks on them made little sense either. Battery, but the wounds didn’t match any objects lying around. People choked on nothing, crushed with no bruises from hands or the like…” Nikolai’s voice dropped, shifting closer to the bed. Jarek wouldn’t look at him, swallowing hard. The cards slid over each other into a mess. “It’s all a little strange, isn’t it? There was no known force marching on the town. It was just something from within that set it all ablaze and killed everyone. An incredible, unidentified power-” 

“Nikolai,” Mikhail’s voice rung out with a warning from where he was sitting, sensing the rising tension in the situation. Jarek clenched his hands, his rising panic pulling at his desire to flee, even though it would only solidify his guilt. But he had little doubt they had already made up their minds. “Stop tormenting him. You aren’t doing yourself any favors.” Neither looked particularly like they wanted revenge, Nikolai leaning back to where he was previous with a smirk Jarek couldn’t decipher. 

“I’m just joking around, you know. Though we still don’t have an answer.” Nikolai continued, unabashed. “Why would one little boy destroy his home? Revenge? An accident?” Jarek felt his skin painfully stretched as he bowed himself smaller, wanting nothing more than to escape. He had known this day would come; of course people would want to know what had happened. Why had had done it.

“I suppose it could have been an accident - after all, from everything we’ve seen of you so far, you don’t look like you have the best control of over what you can do.” Nikolai grabbed the cards from him, disrupting the shuffling and causing the rest to fall. “But that doesn’t answer how it could get so out of control, strong enough to raze a village, does it? You can barely manage this, so which is the truth? Are you pretending, to hide yourself?” 

Nikolai had dropped any sense of comradery between them, was looking Jarek over with such seriousness that the boy could barely stand to look at him. He turned his face away, only to have it turned back, Nikolai’s fingers digging into the barely-healed baby fat of his cheeks. “Whichever the case is, we already know you are the guilty party. The only thing that remains to be seen is what you can really do.”

Away from them both, Mikhail’s book snapped shut with an air of finality, his chair squealing on the linoleum as he stood. “Stop antagonizing him, Nikolai.” he hissed, and the man addressed merely let out a bark of laughter, letting go. Jarek flexed his jaw, trying to get a reign on his thumping heart. A bottle of antiseptic nearby was shaking, yet his company didn’t seem to notice. “Fine, fine. In a few days it’ll stop being our problem anyway.” 

Nikolai shrugged, and Jarek could feel his gaze on him, refusing to look at either of the men. No risk of connecting, of feeling that mocking condescension within his head even louder. “Not that it really matters that the town was destroyed at all. We get another cautionary tale about samizdat production, and a nice asset that we can take back to Moscow.”

Silence reigned in the small room for a few moments, Nikolai standing and putting on his coat while the swirl of emotions made Jarek sick to his stomach. They knew he was guilty, yet they didn’t seem to care at all. Did his loss of control just feed back into why they wanted him as an “asset,” only interested in his destructive capabilities so long as they could put a leash on him? Jarek wondered what sort of fate they were leading him to, if it would end up being punishment enough for his crimes in the end.

“We’ll be back in a few days to pick you up for transport. Until then, maybe try to practice your card tricks, kid.” Nikolai’s smile was thin and frightening, Mikhail watching him with an unreadable expression from the corner of his eye before they both left. The cards in question were strewn across Jarek’s lap, on the floor, bent and torn from his careless mental handling. The ace of hearts lay atop the stack, untouched.

Jarek told himself he didn’t feel hurt as he threw away all the cards, because they were never his friends to begin with. Nobody would be friends with a monster, after all.

* * *

The airport in Karlovy Vary was the first Jarek had ever seen, yet somehow smaller than he expected, the distant planes on the runways looking like toys against the overcast sky. The long car ride to get here had made his back ache, shivering in the February chill when he stepped out. 

Mikhail and Nikolai had returned as promised to take him from the hospital, arriving before the sun had risen to begin discharge and give him his first change of clothes aside from scrubs; though they still looked very similar to his old outfit, instead pristine white with black writing across his right breast in Russian. His clothes and coat were not particularly warm, but he held back a tremor as they were led inside to prepare for the flight. The crush of new minds was immediately upon him, and he pressed an unwrapped palm to his eye in pain.

“If it’s that bad, we can always sedate you for the flight.” Mikhail spoke, resting a hand on his charge’s shoulder with more care than Jarek expected from him. Nikolai, who Jarek had done his best to ignore since this morning, had left to check them in. Jarek kept his head bowed, not wanting to show his face to these strangers, though they weren’t many. They were already looking at him, a small boy with too-bright hair being accompanied by two men, and if they saw his scarred face the thoughts directed at him would surely be too much. It was worth consideration to want to be asleep for this, but he wasn’t sure he trusted his company enough to be out of his mind around them. He shook his head, and Mikhail withdrew his hand. 

“Hey, we’re ready to move through,” Nikolai sauntered back up, bag slung over his shoulder. “And, once we’re on the other side, we have a little gift for you, kid.” He smirked, reaching to ruffle Jarek’s hair before he made eye contact with the boy and thought better of it. Good, Jarek thought spitefully, turning away. 

“…Still sore, huh? Fair enough. You’ll probably like it, though.” He ushered them through the gate, taking them to a more secluded area of the corridor. People milled about distantly but paid them no mind, only their footsteps echoing in the hallway. Nikolai took that opportunity to remove his bag from his shoulder, chattering all the while.

“We were speaking to some of the folks back in Moscow… Mentioned you had some trouble with headaches, presumably from sensitivity to other people’s heads, right?” His eyes flicked between Mikhail and Jarek, the former scanning the area solemnly. “Not an uncommon issue, apparently. They mentioned that finding you some kind of, ah, insulator might help. Considering that we’re about to get on a plane with a lot of people, it seems prudent that you not accidentally fly off the handle.” 

He unzipped the bag, ignorant to the morose annoyance resonating from his charge. Or perhaps he knew but simply chose to ignore it. From the bag he pulled a gas mask, orange lenses glinting. Jarek thought immediately that it felt strange, ominous, to look at and know that it was going to come near his face. “It’s kind of last minute, but it’s the best I could do. It’s in a child size, anyway.” Nikolai tapped the glass under his fingers. “Come on, I’ll put it on you.”

Jarek hesitated to move closer, his eyes cutting nervously to Mikhail, who didn’t seem concerned in the least. Sensing apprehension, Nikolai tried another one of his smiles, which Jarek frowned at in return. “I’ll tell you what, if you don’t like it, you can take it right back off. But I can tell your head is hurting, and this might make it better.” He undid the lower straps, facing the hollowed back end to Jarek. 

It looked frightening, for some reason, dark and silencing, the center piece reminding him of a spider with its legs outstretched. But there wasn’t much option but to comply here, and Nikolai seemed sincere enough, his mind emanating something like gentle concern. Jarek told himself that the concern was more for Nikolai’s safety than his own comfort, reaching out to touch the filter of the mask. 

It was all the permission Nikolai seemed to need, pushing the mask up and placing it against the boy’s face, sliding the top straps and centerpiece down to the back of his skull and securing the bottom before going back and tightening the rest. The fit was snug, the smell kind of musty and the world amber and sharp through his new eyes. But it was also an immediate relief: the cloud of thoughts around him had fallen quiet, only his own breathing echoing back at him. Since the village, it was first time he really felt alone in his own head again. Jarek touched the leather gingerly, feeling out his new face while Nikolai grinned. 

“Like it, huh? Well, it’s yours, then.” He closed the bag back up, returning it to his shoulder in a single motion. “It’s a little unnerving for other people to see though, so we’ll be sitting at the back of the plane where nobody will notice. It’ll be nice and quiet.” Rather than go back into the populated area, he continued to push them along the corridor, Mikhail at Jarek’s back. The mask left him feeling calm, almost sleepy; he was still upset with Nikolai for his previous antagonism, but this felt like a step back in the right direction. 

The world was oddly dreamlike in this new state, led through the winding passage to the outside tarmac where Nikolai and Mikhail exchanged a few words in Russian with the people waiting at the stairs to the passenger jet. These new people looked at him oddly, and Jarek felt a euphoric relief that he heard nothing with their stares, able to look them in the eye from behind his lenses with no worries. Aboard the plane he was buckled in, seated between his guardians and a blue curtain drawn in front to separate them from the rest of the plane.

“It won’t be long now before the rest of the passengers get on and we start moving.” Mikhail tightened his buckle, pulling a book from his own carryon bag. “Get comfortable, the flight will be a few hours.” Nikolai shrugged, stretching as best he could in the confined space and shuttering the window. The faded, worn magazines in the seat pocket in front of Jarek didn’t hold his attention for long, his limited grasp of the language meaning he looked at the pictures only briefly before setting them back. He was starting to become unbearably tired though, remembering that he had refused sedation and finding it funnily contrary that his first action on the plane would be to sleep anyway. But they had been up since before dawn, and there was nothing better to do…

The plane began to lurch beneath him, but he didn’t mind it much, the roar of the engines the only sound in his ears as his head lolled heavily to the side, eyes closing. He thought he felt someone touch his hair briefly, but ignored it in favor of sleep, warm and empty.

* * *

It had been nearly two and a half hours in when Jarek began to come to, his head throbbing painfully and his mouth dry. It took a moment to even comprehend the source of pain, separate it from his drowsy mind and try to understand it. He was pulled fully conscious with a shuddering gasp as he was racked by another wave of agony and nausea, his company asleep and oblivious to his discomfort. 

It was peculiar, how sudden it had come on, how strangely similar it felt. As the minutes ticked by it only became stronger and stronger, Jarek clutching his own arms and gasping for breath as he realized that even with his mask, whatever this was… it was going to overpower him again.

The realization of the emotions thrust upon him was unexpected: hate, boiling him from the inside out, anger and a hunger for vengeance that scraped him raw and left him empty, a vessel for nothing else. He clawed at his chest, his head, breath stolen from his lungs as vitriol poured into his mind swift as water from a breaking dam. The mask did nothing to abate it, the thoughts overwhelming him more and more by the second. It was far worse than before, the emotional outpouring enough to shake his own control. At this rate, he would black out again, have to release the energy or lose his mind.

Jarek looked to Mikhail’s sleeping face with watering eyes, reaching to touch him; maybe to transfer the thoughts and unload his emotional state, or at least warn him, only to have his vision blur and bile rise in his mouth, hand falling limp. There was a heat mounting about him rapidly, in his hands, and his head, pushing out unbidden. It was escaping all the same, and there was nothing to be done for it. He could feel his seat shaking beneath him, the overhead voice static and unintelligible. Light flickered and the plane swayed and dropped suddenly, people yelping and screaming in ways that did not help Jarek’s concentration.

Beside him Nikolai was jostled from his sleep and seemed to be as unnerved as the rest by the plane’s behavior, glancing at Jarek as the plane teetered further. Could he tell? Jarek couldn’t reach out, was only able to focus all his pained attention on keeping the emotional overflow in check before it killed them all. Although it seemed like a futile effort, the more he tried the more his own mind ebbed, weaker and weaker. He thought distantly he could hear Nikolai yell something across the seat, but it was lost amidst the other passengers as the final barricades of his mental fortitude broke open. 

There was screeching, searing heat, and the deafening crack of the hull of the plane resounded through the cabin. The entire world was breaking apart and spinning, hot and cold and tossing them about like dolls. Even the sounds of destruction were muted, a desire to find buried in Jarek’s psyche and pulling him forward. Through his mask he could smell the scorched plastic, flesh, and metal, all distant to the anger and resentment that had rooted within. 

Everything was burning except the growing blue of the sky shining through the smoke, Jarek reaching out and moving toward it by his will, or perhaps, the will of someone else. Something he couldn’t identify caught on his clothes before falling away, leaving him alone in the smoke of the plane’s descent. He could see it spiraling away below him, yet could not manage to feel sadness or guilt, nothing but that hate urging him on. He began to follow it, down and down to the icy wilderness, his fingers and toes growing uncomfortably numb.

The wind whipped wildly at his hair as he descended down through the trees, the heat of the plane emanating even from a good distance. The powdered snow that had been kicked up from the crash clouded his vision, which ultimately wasn’t needed; he was a puppet on strings, submissively pulled without complaint into the forest. 

Dimly, he was aware he should have been freezing, the scent of death still stuck in his filters, mechanically brushing away the limbs of trees as he moved past and felt the ice slick under his hands. This new person… what would they want? Their hunger for revenge had been so palpable: willing to do anything for it, screaming out into the void with a lack of reservation reserved for the mad. But as swiftly as it came, the siren call was growing faint, the strings growing slack as he began to lose altitude, toes of his shoes scraping snow. 

Jarek was starting to feel empty, panic rising for his loss of purpose as he pushed forward single-mindedly, only to have the pull fade away, like trying to grasp at smoke. What had gone wrong? Did the person simply leave his field of reach, or maybe they died, stopped feeling anything at all? Reaching out mentally only brought him the slightest of tethers, but the tenacity he had felt before to seek it out had vanished as quickly as it came upon him. 

How far would he have to go in this cold to find anyone, and would he even make it before he froze to death? The snow wasn’t terribly deep but it soaked his shoes as he came to rest on the ground, looking into the distance where the forest seemed to stretch on forever.

It was with confusion and a fogged mind that Jarek turned around back toward the scene of the accident, focusing to lift himself back out of the snow as he returned. If anyone was going to come, they would seek out the wreckage, and the fire burning there would keep him warm until then. 

The thought was so casually morbid that he took a moment to balk at himself; he had killed them in his moment of weakness, and yet all he could do was think to use their remains to stay alive. Even Nikolai and Mikhail… there was no presence of minds he could feel from the plane’s metal carcass. The sole survivor once again. They had been people with lives, families, not bound to this curse like him, and he snuffed them out with literally only a thought. 

With the snow now settled, the wreckage was more strewn about than he anticipated, the plane in pieces in a wide parameter with massive trees bent, broken and burning amidst the rubble. It was worse to see the bodies there as well, red blood and charred skins bright against the snow, yet he forced himself to look. 

Jarek had missed out on the results of his break before, and if he was going to use it to survive now, he needed to face the consequences of his power. It was a form of catharsis, really, even though it made him want to rip off his mask and vomit. He hunkered down out of the wind by a large section of smoldering fuselage, knees to chest and arms wrapped around, surveying and waiting.

He must have waited hours, the sun slowly moving through sky until it grew dark, the fire gradually burning down, leaving him shivering. If it went out completely before help arrived, he might very well die with the rest, a slower but more peaceful death than he deserved, probably. Even now Jarek felt the tug of sleep but did his best to ignore it, scratching idly at his burns through his clothing. The cold seemed to make them ache more than usual. At least he could see the stars very well out here, easily made out constellations away from the light of civilization.

With his mask he was no longer able to feel the approach of new people, instead hearing the faint sound of a helicopter growing louder and louder in his snowy world and looking up to see it approach and hover over the clearing, watching. The sight filled him with an inexplicable dread, scrunching back against the metal hull as though he should not want to be seen. They wouldn’t be able to land here anyway, but they were likely only scouting. 

It was well and truly black out when the second wave arrived a short time later, lights shining through the forest like will-of-the-wisps. The trees made it impossible to get a car through, the initial search team on foot yet Jarek could tell they came prepared to treat survivors, the medics among them holding boxes of equipment that would not see use. 

Guilt welled up in his chest where it sat heavy like a stone, remaining pressed tight and watching the flicker of emotions across their faces and minds as they uncovered the scene bit by bit, examining the bodies with grim expressions. Their thoughts and words were unintelligible to him; it was unlikely any of them knew Czech, would be able to talk to him, which would only complicate things. 

When one finally spotted him they were rightfully startled, his gas mask reflecting the beam of their flashlight like a cat’s eyes in the dimming light. Jarek felt like a trapped animal as one broke away from the group and approached, speaking what he supposed must have been Ukrainian and kneeling, reaching out toward his mask. Jarek immediately flinched away from the medic’s hands, his own coming up to grip it defensively. He couldn’t allow himself to be separated from the only thing that had brought him relief. 

The medic spoke again, still as senseless as ever to Jarek’s ears, and he shook his head back in response. They paused, looking over his clothing and after spotting the writing, seemed to switch languages to Russian, though Jarek only knew a couple of words and not enough to understand. He stayed silent and motionless this time, the medic slowly reaching out to touch his numbed hands; they had turned further red and patchy from exposure, the beginning stages of frostbite. The medic’s gloved ones barely felt warm in response. 

There was no sense in staying where he was, and knew from the way the medic gestured that they wanted him to go back to the main group that appeared to be setting up some sort of camp, erecting a large tent and still examining for anyone else. It took a few moments for Jarek to rise from his position, so cold that his legs ached and shook like a newborn fawn’s, leaning against the grip of the medic for support.

Of course he was quite a sight for them to behold, many of them looking wary, Jarek feeling out their emotions to know that many were overwhelmed enough by the crash that a scrawny boy in a gas mask was just one more drop in an ocean of complications. The original medic spoke to another as they approached, back to presumably Ukrainian, motioning to Jarek before leaving him to this weary looking woman.

They fetched him blankets, warmed him up considerably. Offered him food, though despite his hunger Jarek declined in favor of keeping his mask on. He would eat when he could do so privately, not wishing to expose his face to these strangers. People continued to try to speak to him, each language garnering only a shake of his head. 

Eventually remembering his plane ticket crumpled in his pocket, he showed it to one of them; surely they knew where the plane was from, but tapping at “Karlovy Vary, Czechoslovakia” seemed to garner more understanding about his language background. After that they stopped trying, presumably none of the crew on-site knowing Czech, but that was probably for the best. Jarek was exhausted from this ordeal, his own mind a cloud of emotions without the interference of others, sleepy in his layers of blankets. 

As the number of people continued to grow he was more thankful than ever for his mask, feeling a pang of guilt that he had killed the man who gave it to him. Nikolai had been a bit a jerk, but… he had cared, in some small way. Like an older brother who teased harshly, but still took care of him. He had cared more than his father had, certainly, perhaps even more than Christoph. Even Mikhail too, had been there for him. 

And they paid for it, bodies buried under the rubble of the plane, never to wake again and teach him how to play svoyi koziri, or improve his Russian. The finality of it, the loss of their minds that he had grown accustomed to the ebb and flow of… Tears welled up unbidden behind his mask, reaching up to wipe at them before he remembered he couldn’t wipe them away; would have to live with it, live with their deaths on his hands. 

Lost in his thoughts, he was surprised when he finally heard his own language directed at him, one of the new arrivals at camp approaching with two others in tow. He was a physically imposing man, his harsh gaze immediately setting Jarek on edge; he was clearly no medic, and his beeline for the tent indicated that his only purpose was to talk to the one survivor recovered. He wasted no time in getting down to business, sharp eyes pinning Jarek to the spot while his equally-intimidating company waited at his back.

“You were being accompanied by Nikolai Dmitriyevich Brezhnev and Mikhail Olegovich Yakovlev, correct?” He boomed in strangely accented Czech, and Jarek shrank down a little more, nodding. This seemed to satisfy him, somehow. “My colleagues and I are here to escort you the rest of the way to Moscow. The medics have told us that you seem to suffer no injury, other than initial-stage frostbite and some bruising, but we will examine you again before you can leave.” 

No compromise, just the expectation. When Jarek did not immediately move, the man nodded at his comrades with one quick jerk of his squared head; they fanned out to each of Jarek’s sides, removing the blanket and checking his hands and feet, his neck and chest, their touches not so gentle but searching nonetheless. As they tried to grip his mask he jerked away, hands protecting the straps much to their aggravation.

“It is fortunate you survived what appeared to be a rather odd and devastating crash,” the man continued, waving the others away from trying to touch the gas mask. “Even more so, that you managed to do it without any side effects. There will be questions, later, but for now we need to get you to Moscow. And for that, we need to be sure you will be safe in transport.” One of them rolled up Jarek’s sleeve, his anxiety ratcheting up when he saw them pull out an alcohol swab and a needle. 

He twisted his head away before it sunk into his skin, gritting his teeth to hide a whimper. It wasn’t that he hated the needles so much as what came after; the loss of time as the sedation got to work, his head swimming and lolling to one side. Wrapping him back in the blanket made him easier to pick up, though he couldn’t help but squirm at the way his world tilted, left feeling like everything was moving underwater. Carried out of the camp, he watched with hazy eyes as the lights in the forest became distant twinkles of amber before sleep overtook him.


	3. Chapter 3

Jarek held no recollection of actually getting to Moscow. Clearly, a lot had gone on while he had been sedated, though his mind was too fogged to comprehend any of it. They still seemed to think him a dangerous animal, perhaps playing at docility and waiting for an opening before striking, thus refusing him any opportunity to awaken fully until now. His clothes had been exchanged at some point for something warmer, his wet shoes removed, eyes heavy while he waited in a dim, white room for… something. Had they even told him where he was now, or why he was there? He couldn’t remember. He only really assumed he was in Moscow at all. 

Trying to stand or float himself up felt like lifting heavy bags of sand, his stomach churning painfully. Having not eaten in some time made his condition that much worse, his head throbbing as he squinted at the ceiling. It took a few more moments to realize that his mask had been removed, hence the room looking white to him rather than orange; pain was quickly replaced by panic, the adrenalin pumping through enough for him to stagger upright, looking around for it. 

Yet there seemed to be nothing here; there was a table in the center of the room with a plastic foam top, a covered instrument table on the other side against the wall. At a second glance the seat he was in was actually a wheelchair, locked into place so he wouldn’t accidentally roll himself away in a stupor. It was likely he had only been waiting there a short time. Jarek gripped the table, head aching as his heart raced, unsure where to even look now.

Too distracted in his mission he had almost missed the pressure of a new presence coming closer, their mind a buzz of thoughts. Jarek turned to the door, something thick clearly built with the intention of keeping him in, a few clicks resonating from the other side before it swung open slowly. The man waiting there was holding a tray with a modest meal; he appeared shocked to see Jarek up and standing, however unsteadily, both of them frozen in place. Jarek could feel the flicker of his mind all too well now: harmless intentions, it seemed, but too skittish. He could easily push him down with a thought, go looking for his mask if he had to- 

The clamor of the door closing broke the quiet, the man inching forward warily and holding out the tray. His mind was a blur of Russian, no point in trying to communicate. He was clearly repulsed just to look at the boy in front of him, eyes flicking away rather than make contact with Jarek’s sunken ones, pointedly avoiding the scars, the missing nose. Jarek might have felt annoyance if he wasn’t so tired, pulling the tray from his hands mentally rather than physically, which surprised the newcomer further. Better for a stranger to be wary and keep their distance, Jarek thought, sinking back down into the chair with his food.

It was his turn to be surprised when the man left immediately, Jarek having believed that he would have stayed to watch over him now that he was awake; perhaps they had gone back to not really believing him to be a direct threat. Without his mask, and alone, he didn’t have to worry about anyone else seeing him eat, though the food was not much reward for it, being mostly tasteless and thick on his tongue, and the water metallic. If he hadn’t been so hungry it might have been too disgusting to even eat, pushing the empty tray away on the floor, hands resting on his bare face. 

Although he had only had the gas mask for a short time, he was beginning to feel naked without it. The insulation it provided from the minds of others was a necessity, though he had no idea how to communicate this to these new people. If they were going to be teaching him Russian, it was unlikely he would run into anyone he could even communicate with outside of lessons, to start with. 

As his mind naturally expanded, flowing into the thoughts of others moving about distantly, he got the sense that this area was not very populated. He only brushed against the minds of a couple of people, and one of them felt very weak and distant despite seeming physically closer than the rest. It was almost like they were asleep, dreaming, something about it prickly and uncomfortable under Jarek’s skin.

His focus turned away quickly when he felt the approach of several new people, instantly on alert. Their minds showed him a singular focus, intimidating though he couldn’t understand why. Three altogether opened the door, two looking similarly to the men who had picked him up from the site of the crashed plane, though they were dressed rather informally. 

The third was more subdued, dressed in a white lab coat: presumably some sort of doctor. Jarek had really had his fill of doctors and people, scowling when he could tell they were all gaping at his scarred face, mumbling in Russian between each other like he was not even there. It was almost enough to make him want to lash out, hands curled into fists on his lap.

“You are the boy from Czechoslovakia, yes?” One finally spoke to him directly, and Jarek looked up, remaining silent. They knew full well that answer, and his silence didn’t seem to buy him any favors. They returned his annoyance just as well. “The name we have on file for you is ‘Jarek,’ though that will not be necessary. While here, you should become familiar with people calling you ‘Tretij Rebenok.’” 

Jarek blinked, not quite what he was expecting. Was he being given a new name entirely? It didn’t sound like much of a name, really, though he didn’t understand Russian so he couldn’t be sure. It would make sense though, that after being “adopted” by them he should get a new name.

“Consider this your… orientation of sorts, to Moscow.” He continued, nudging the other that looked similar. Jarek - or, as they insisted, ‘Tretij Rebenok’ - immediately focused in that, but was unable to decipher the meaning behind it as they walked around to the other side of the room, the first commanding his attention again. 

“You’ll be expected to put forth all your effort into the tests that are given to you, to learn to control and train your powers to suit them.” The doctor stepped forward while he was talking, pressed a cold stethoscope up Jarek’s shirt much to his irritation. It wasn’t nearly as annoying as his next move, which was to shove an otoscope into his ear, something that Jarek actually pulled away from with a glower. The doctor didn’t seem to mind overly much, turning away to write something down, satisfied.

“You’ll also be expected to learn Russian language: speaking, reading and writing; you’ll receive those lessons every day after your tests are complete. Once you become proficient, do not expect anyone to speak to you in Czech anymore.” The man interrupted Jarek’s affronted little fit, also unperturbed by it. They were probably used to dealing with sulky patients, then.  
Jarek stopped his huffing when he heard a clatter behind him, turning curiously. It was hard to see what was going on, but the man seemed to be cleaning off something at the instrument table. The doctor said something softly to the other, sounding concerned, but was brushed off with a grumble that made Jarek turn back, untrusting. 

There was something far too conspiratorial between them all, some inside story just out of his reach. It was becoming concerning very quickly, given the one working behind him on something that wafted the scent of disinfectant into his nose. He could feel a rising panic, shivering in a room that suddenly felt far too small. He was learning not to trust people he couldn’t read.

“Due to your power…” Jarek wasn’t completely listening, blood rushing in his ears and nails digging into the plastic. “We feel as though you could become a target at some point in the future, or based on previous experience, could lose control and… wander off.” The metallic sounds from behind seemed far too loud, noisy rattling in his head. 

“If that should happen, we will need a way to identify you. Blood and teeth… those take too long. Might not have them if we need them, either.” The man shrugged so nonchalantly, the doctor in the lab coat shifting uncomfortably beside. “Instead, we settled on tattooing. It will hurt, but only temporarily. After they heal, you won’t even notice them anymore.” 

Jarek did not have much knowledge of tattoos, but he knew they involved needles, ink, and some measure of pain… The idea was wholly unappealing, especially considering that they were planning to brand him like an animal. For identification. The way he spoke of it, it was like they expected he would be sent to his death someday. The man stepped forward and Jarek tensed, jaw set. 

“You’ll be getting three; your burns made it difficult to find suitable areas where the ink won’t be rejected. One on each arm, and one here,” he pointed to the side of his own skull for the last, watching the boy carefully. Jarek’s own hands came up to rest over his arms, frowning. The ones there might be bearable, but on his head... His uncertainty must have been obvious.

“I can tell you’re worried, but it won’t be as bad as you think. And once it’s finished, we’ll take you to your room and you can rest.” He attempted to sound comforting, but Jarek found it not very helpful at all. The man made some motion at the other, who nodded and pulled the tray forward that he had made all the commotion with before. 

All the items on it were laid out in neat rows, gleaming ominously; seeing the needle gun alone made him rethink his decision to go about this with his usual docility. Jarek leaned himself away from the tray, body language screeching his discomfort. The man’s frown appeared overly harsh in response, turning to the doctor and saying something low that earned him a quick agreement. 

Seeing him pull a syringe from his lab coat after was enough to spiral Jarek into full panic, mentally lashing out and crushing the doctor’s wrist with barely any thought behind the action; controlling his strength against a person was much harder when his focus was wavering, he found, the man screaming and the syringe skittering across the floor. Jarek would be lying if he said this didn’t give him a rush of satisfaction, a snarl curling on his lip before the men grabbed him and forced his face into the plastic of the table. 

He could do a lot worse to them than crush their arms that held him down, but with his message across, he relaxed his hold and let the doctor free. Jarek had most certainly pulverized his wrist, and the man was practically whimpering. What could they really do to him that he couldn’t stop them from doing, if he was so opposed? Jarek may not have been out to actively hurt anyone, but he couldn’t let them keep drugging him, losing days off his life and waking up feeling like he’d been in a coma.

“Now Tretij Rebenok, there’s no reason to be so upset.” One of them at his back said, faux-soothing voice doing nothing to calm. “You have to get this done, one way or another. And we can do it nicely, or we can do it the hard way.” A hand slid into the back of his hair, gripping it and forcing his gaze away from the doctor, to the other side of the room. He winced in pain, neck bent uncomfortably.

How much point was there to keep fighting? These men weren’t the type who would give up just because Jarek put up a fit of his own. They would just change tactics and find another way to get him to come along quietly with their demands. To have to deal with the pain of being marked, or to accept the shot; he would have to swallow his pride to allow it, show that he was capable of reform and not just attack whenever he disagreed. He knew what he was getting into back when Nikolai and Mikhail visited him in the hospital, whether or not he wanted to believe it.

He could hear the doctor moving close again, nervous, uncapping the needle and plunging it clumsily into the bared skin of Jarek’s shoulder junction. He hissed through his teeth; the doctor was noticeably less skilled with his non-dominant hand. It took a few moments before it kicked in, becoming sluggish and feeling oddly detached from his body. He expected he would fall asleep, yet he kept his eyes open, watching as the men spoke between themselves in their language, prepping him for the tattoos as they went. 

They started with his head, tilting it to one side and pinning his hair back before removing a decent chunk beneath it. Jarek could see a few locks of his hair coiled on the table beside him, and guessed the spot for the tattoo was fairly sizeable, watching them sweep away the hair they had taken off. He was feeling less relaxed and more boneless when they finished with his biceps, sleeves pushed up and a swipe of rubbing alcohol, the buzz of the tattoo gun loud in the otherwise quiet room.

Even drugged, it hurt, though in a way that Jarek would not have been able to categorize previously. It ached and burned at once, made him clench his teeth and fight to control his breathing even through the mental haze. The doctor was observing his reactions carefully, and his blank expression at Jarek’s pain made him want to crush his other wrist. 

There was no talking him through it, no making sure he was managing the pain well; nothing but his own choked voice holding back sobs as the pain tethered him to consciousness. It took some time to finish the tattoos on both arms, the translator even stepping in once to keep him from shaking and messing it up. Jarek could taste that disgusting meal in the back of his mouth, the plastic under his cheek sticking uncomfortably with tears. When the gun was against his head it was even worse, the thrum of the machine against the thin skin of his scalp achingly jarring. 

When they finally pulled the gun away, wiping blood and ink from the final spot, he thought he would feel more relief than the hollow emptiness it left instead. One of them - Jarek had lost track of who was who in the resulting blur of his head - helped him to sit up, the faint hum of some sort of scanner in their hands as they ran it close to the new tattoos. As they moved from one arm to the next, Jarek took a look at the work: matching barcodes, black ink dark against the red of his irritated skin. Even after they smeared something shiny across his skin and covered them with thin bandages, it couldn’t pull his thoughts from them. It left him feeling even more like an object, the tattoos impersonal and painful reminders of his position. 

The three men spoke between themselves, their words not for him; his body was aching from more than just the tattoos, longing for his mask so he could shut them all out. At his village he often felt alone despite there always being someone around, but here, the isolation was worse, rejected and not even worth talking to outside of instruction. 

Eventually they quietened, one unlocking the wheels on his chair after helping him into it while the other gave him the ground rules of tattoo care. Jarek didn’t pay much mind to them, knowing that just “do not touch” was a decent enough thing to know. His skin felt raw anyway, even his shirt brushing the thin covering they put over them made it ache. He would have to keep his hair pushed back for a while. The doctor, holding his wrist and looking tense, parted from them there and left the opposite direction.

The halls were the same white as the room, meagerly decorated with barred windows stretching along the outside wall. Beyond was too dark to make out, snow piled on the windowsill, dim twinkles of something that could be streetlights visible. Jarek couldn’t see anything more, yet still watched them as he was pushed along nonetheless.

If it was so dark it would explain his tiredness, maybe it was far later than he even realized. Without clocks in sight, it was impossible to make a guess beyond that. They went from corridor to corridor, down an elevator a couple of floors to where there were no more windows, only dim lights and people who watched them pass with haunted faces, Jarek keeping his eyes in his lap until they finally came to a stop.

The door looked much like the one to the other room, heavy with something written in Russian across it; if he had to guess, it was his new title. Inside was much like the tattooing room, bare and cold, a bed shoved into one corner, a small table and chair in the center, a narrow door that thankfully cordoned off a bathroom on the other side. It lacked any personality, a lot like a prison with no windows and decoration, but at least there was a lot of room to move around. 

There was also, Jarek noted, no mask here. He looked back at the man as he stood shakily, putting his hand over his face and mimicking the gasmask he had come in with. His caretaker watched the motions with some confusion, Jarek feeling his patience waning with his energy, connecting to his mind briefly to ask directly for ‘my mask.’ That garnered some surprise, the man trying to hide his shock but unable to do so when Jarek was so attuned to it.

“I don’t know where it is, I’ll have to ask if anyone has seen it.” He pulled the chair back with him toward the door, seeming eager to leave. “It’s late, so you should sleep. Testing will be starting early tomorrow; someone will come to get you for it.” He departed without further comment, the door locking with a loud click from the outside. In such a bare place there wasn’t much else to do but sleep.

Alone the room felt that much more empty, a box like a tomb. After taking off his shoes it was like walking on ice, prompting him to lift a few inches from the floor, studying his surroundings. It was something of a relief to see there was no mirror in the bathroom, no chance of accidentally catching sight of himself puffy-eyed from crying. He couldn’t see any cameras either, but wasn’t fool enough to think that they weren’t watching him even now.

The bed reminded him of the one he stayed in at the hospital: a little too stiff to get comfortable, a blanket that barely felt like it would provide adequate protection against the chill of the room. Jarek curled up beneath it regardless, carefully avoiding jostling his sore arms and head. His eyes scanned the wall until he found the light switch and mentally switched it off, the room descending into total darkness. Curled in on himself, every small noise echoed ominously. It would be hard to sleep like this at all; instead, he took a breath, began reaching out mentally to look for others.

While Jarek couldn’t quite understand the layout of the building with his mind alone, mapping it by the movements of people at least allowed him some measure of relaxing activity. There were two people nearby on this corridor - guards, based on the way they patrolled back and forth - and one other. The same one he had felt before, upstairs, their mind distant and dreamy. Physically, he guessed that they must have been at the far end of the hall, enough distance to blur their thoughts and make them hard to read, but not impossibly so.

Digging deeper was akin to pulling back layers like bark on a tree, the sleepy outside giving way to agitation beneath. Were they waking up? Jarek tried to keep his thoughts from being overpowering, not wishing to pull them from sleep rudely. He turned his probing more gentle, simply trying to feel the flow of their thoughts rather than force them forward. The agitation persisted, morphing into rising anger. It was becoming worrisome, but Jarek didn’t pull away just yet, the way they reached back intriguing. Could they tell he was in his mind? Or were they reacting to something else? 

There was a voice, in Russian, slipping through the connection, a sudden sear of rage and memory. Something about it was familiar, reminded him of the voracious mind that took over his own on the plane. There were memories of a jungle, a strange tank, a blond man with a cruel smile, and… another man, familiar, with brown hair and a headband, a thunderstorm and a lightning strike alongside a lullaby, all flashing behind his eyes. 

The call upon that final recollection was enough to send Jarek reeling, withdrawing his mind from the other’s before the link could send him spiraling into someone else’s control again. He sat bolt upright, breathing heavily, chest aching, blind in the dark of his room.

Someone else who held memories like that… Perhaps they were connected, somehow. If it was another student he was to meet, there was always the possibility he could ask in person. He had not planned to talk about the things he felt on that disastrous trip, happier to forget them, but. If they upset someone else, it was the least he could do to see what could be gained from it. 

It would be hard to sleep, after this.

* * *

Jarek supremely disliked his rude awakening in the morning, the light in his room flicking on and the blankets all but ripped from him. He was pushed to shower quickly and given a change of clothes, told breakfast would be waiting but he should not dally; the scientists were eager to see him, and it would be rude to keep them waiting. 

It was a lot to take in for a sleepy mind, slow to start but still noticing a clamor of people in the far end corridor where there were none the night before. They seemed harried, torn between excited and nervous, but he couldn’t focus on them now. His head ached enough on its own, the tattoo on his scalp its own tender itch.

Breakfast, at least, was better than his dinner, fruit and oatmeal that was filling and fresh. He asked again about his mask to the person shadowing him, annoyed by not surprised when they had no answer. They probably hadn’t looked for it at all. What did they care about his comfort, anyway? Jarek hoped that if he behaved, they might eventually acquiesce to his request, chewing absently on his plastic spoon and fighting back a tired yawn. 

Tretij was whisked away to another area as soon as he finished eating, this one lit by soft, golden morning light. The outside world was blanketed in snow, buildings visible in the distance, though there was no time for him to go to the window and examine further, ushered along at a quick pace. Moscow was supposed to be a large city, nothing like his village. If he became good enough with Russian, maybe he could go out and explore it on his own one day; it would be an idea to hold on to through his language lessons when he needed the push.

His gaze was torn from the windows and toward a new room, this one wide as his own but much brighter with outside light, a handful of very serious looking people staring at him with intense scrutiny that set off a sharp pain in Jarek’s head. At the very least their gazes didn’t seem to be affected by his scars, but rather stemmed from curiosity, their hands clutching notepads and gold-capped pens. Tretij was instructed to stand before them, left feeling vulnerable and bare as they all began speaking in Russian. It was very alienating, being left this way, and he couldn’t help but fidget, fingers plucking at the end of his sleeves.

Then, they had questions. It was simple enough to answer with his guide translating, mostly focused on his well-being, which was more than a little bizarre after the last few days of being dragged around like a disobedient dog. They were especially intrigued that Jarek did not answer verbally, but rather mind-to-mind with his caretaker, who admitted to preferring if he was not a conduit. Yet Tretij kept on with it anyway, not trusting his own rusty voice in a room with such focus on it. The scientists were taking plenty of notes. 

Truthfully, their prodding was a little annoying to Jarek, enough that he occasionally feigned ignorance to avoid having to repeat something, or answer something he would rather not. Even so, they were not deterred from forming more complicated questions, calling for a break when Jarek seemed to grow too irritated to continue to their standards. His head ached more than ever as he was taken back out. He just wanted his mask back, wanted proper rest and to not feel like a science project for a little while. 

And where were the other children like him? If he at least had someone he could commiserate with, it wouldn’t be so bad. He tried to ask his guide as they steered him back into the tiny cafeteria, mentally speaking directly to him and watching the man stiffen uncomfortably; he certainly didn’t seem used to, nor liked, the way Jarek could project into his mind with such ease. The man considered his question quietly as they walked.

“Other children? I’m afraid you are the only one here, Tretij Rebenok.” He was picking his words carefully, as if on edge. Tretij cocked his head, pushing forward his memory of Nikolai, saying he was going to a school where there would be other children. His memory may not have been perfectly eidetic, but these memories came easily to him, as did the memories of others he sometimes collected. The man shook his head, frowning. 

“While this is technically a division of Lomonosov University, it is a laboratory, not a lecture hall. Even if other children were to come in, it is unlikely you would meet them.” He said, and Jarek hid his frustration at the news. He had been curious, considered the prodding nothing more than a tradeoff for his education and home. There was no way to even focus on his lunch as his thoughts stirred back to his room, the tattoos; he really was nothing more than a lab rat then. Today was just a gauge of his power, to figure out which way to grow him next. 

What would they even educate him on, besides their language? Teaching him too much seemed a liability, and there didn’t appear to be enough time in the day for anything else, the way things were going. What was the point in tutoring a weapon? He wondered if he should have felt worse than he did about it, but in the end, he really hadn’t expected much else; he was a monster, what he could provide was all he was worth. If he was alone, then all he had to look forward to was even more questions, always worrying about the day they would finally decide his usefulness had peaked. 

But then, who had he made contact with, their mind full of anger and greenery, hidden away in the depths of the facility? Tretij picked at his food, not feeling very hungry now, as he mulled over how to ask it. Perhaps it would be better if he didn’t, instead investigate on his own. He knew very well he wasn’t the only one down there, so they clearly wanted to keep them separate for some reason. 

What were they afraid of him learning? He stretched his mental parameters until he felt that brusque anger flooding in, sending a shiver down his spine. It was dulled by the presence of so many others, like looking at a distant light through a fog. His focused state came across as dazed to his warden, who called out to Tretij to come along and not waste time if he wasn’t going to eat. Tonight then, Jarek decided, he would try again.

The rest of the day seemed to crawl by, Jarek subjected to more question sessions until a couple of hours before dinner, at which point his aid sat with him and started the basics of Russian. He didn’t bother trying to get Tretij to speak it; instead, mental repetition and shaky handwriting of his new name were his accomplishments of the evening. 

It was nothing to be proud of, but after expending so much energy earlier in the day it was hard to focus on adding in learning a new language on top of it. Even if it wasn’t good for practice he could lazily get by worded responses if the man was thinking of the answer he wanted, Jarek simply parroting it back with him none the wiser for it. It really was funny, that he was so opposed to having Jarek in his head yet couldn’t even tell when he was there.

Tretij was relieved to go back to his room following dinner, lying flat on his bed and still wishing desperately for his mask so he wouldn’t feel so vulnerable for what he was about to do. It could be dangerous, risking his mind again to a stranger, but he knew he would get no answers otherwise. Even if he tried to go to the room physically, there seemed to be a regular rotation of guards and specialists who would notice him snooping; he was fairly certain his room was being monitored too. 

He wrapped himself in his blanket and took a deep breath, calming and steeling his mind for second contact. Hopefully, this would go better than the first. Pushing outwards showed just how many were scrambling about out there now, with many of them fixated around the person from the night before. It made it that much harder to focus on them, Tretij gritting his teeth to cut out the sound of their minds. 

To his surprise, the other recognized him in their headspace almost immediately, despite Jarek having only barely touched their mind, only just scratched the surface looking for a reaction. They seemed wholly unaware of the people around them in their room, still a bit hazy as though drugged, but they latched on to Jarek’s mind quickly enough. He pulled away before their anger could seep into him too much, though it made things all the more tenuous as they fought for something, more Russian echoing through and sounding quite upset.

_‘I can’t understand you,’_ Jarek pressed back to them, the Russian falling silent, considering. Through their connection, the emotion did not abate entirely, but settled into a tolerable background noise amidst some confusion. If they only spoke Russian, he could communicate through images, but finding a common language might be easier. 

_‘Do you speak Czech? Slovak? Duetsch?’_ Slovak was close enough to Czech to be almost entirely understandable, though German might be stretching it; he picked up enough from Christoph to be decently fluent, though what he retained was only enough for a basic conversation. Hopefully it would be fine, and supplemented with pictures it was sure to be.

To his relief, the stranger did seem to speak German, although their level was above his own; it was hard to understand them to start, more complex than he was used to, but there was enough to pick up after some consideration. Their emotions added to put it in perspective as well, primary concerns focused on where they were, why were they were there, who was this voice in his dreams? 

A man then, Jarek corrected, and somehow trapped in his own conscious. He started sifting more information forward in the forms of words and pictures from his own memories: Moscow, the images of the snow-covered city seen from the lab windows, the dull white of the corridors, scientists in matching coats. Tretij offered up no images of himself, the only memories of his face ones that were bloody and scarred, or before the incident. Instead, he gave only his name, to which the man, irritated, did not seem to like.

_‘You don’t speak Russian, but you have a Russian title?’_ he returned to Jarek, who pushed ahead the memory of the man who gave it to him, a stern face telling Tretij Rebenok how his new life would be. The stranger understood then, a quiet thoughtfulness falling over their connection. Considering his situation perhaps, in the face of Jarek not knowing what more to give.

_‘Who are you?’_ Tretij finally thought to ask, curious. Something told him that this person was not another child after all, but rather an adult; it was confirmed very quickly as the man gave an image of himself that looked like a memory of a photo he had probably kept until it was very careworn. The blond man from before was in it as well, next to a larger man with a scarred face. Both wore green uniforms, one with a hat and the other not, showing off his scarred face and closely cropped hair. They both looked deadly serious, but were conversing closely as if old friends. 

_‘Colonel Yevgeny Borisovitch Volgin.’_ And Tretij was certain the man in question was the older, grumpier looking one of the two. A name like that seemed fitting for him. _‘…Volgin, is fine.’_ He added as an afterthought, which was much easier to remember. Jarek wasn’t sure he would remember any of such a mouthful of a name otherwise, considering he could barely pronounce his new Russian name.

Feeling more comfortable for the safety of his own mind, Tretij repeated some of the imagery the man had forced onto him during their first connection, questioning why it was so important. There was the jungle, and the tank, but it was the familiar man with a bandanna and an eyepatch that stirred the other back into anger, a sudden surge of it choking out Jarek amidst a snarl of Russian. 

There was no way to push back, the emotion flowing through him until Jarek was reminded of his physical body clutching his wrapped blanket, the light bulb in the room shattering and the wood of either his chair or desk cracking. With the room so sparsely furnished it didn’t leave much to break or throw, which was fortunate. He gritted his teeth until it became painful, tearing his mind away from the hate before it could become worse.

Tretij’s room was left in darkness, the boy wiping sweat away from his face and waiting, silently, for something to happen. If he was being watched they must have not seen this outburst as a problem, as the sound of people outside his door was moving to the end of the hall, and not to him. It didn’t matter much, the way his mind roiled at this new development only left him feeling helpless. He wanted to stay in his blanket and hide away from the world.

Volgin… such a man seemed immeasurably dangerous, and it was clear to Jarek that even from only yesterday to today, he was becoming stronger in his connections. Soon he might gain enough power that even without seeking him out, those dominating feelings would worm their way into Tretij’s head regardless. 

Even so, there was something about it all that left Tretij believing that he couldn’t just stop contacting Volgin yet. Maybe he knew more about this place, or could tell him what was going to become of him through all the lab experiments. Even if Volgin was a vitriolic man, it was good to have someone to talk to. He didn’t have to worry about Volgin being disgusted by what he was as presumably, the colonel was here for much the same reasons. 

It was a cold comfort, but in a place like this, it was the only one Tretij was going to get, touching the scabbing outlines of his left bicep tattoo and closing his mind off to rest.

* * *

Jarek rather liked most animals. Back in his village, while he and his father didn’t keep livestock, most of the town was dedicated to farming and there was no shortage of them to be found. Gentle horses and lumbering cows, skittish chickens and lazy pigs, they had all been familiar sights and he even enjoyed the simplicity of their minds compared to people. Animals were easy to understand and easy to please.

The mouse in his hands now was no exception, its coat mottled brown and white, beady black eyes and a tiny pink nose twitching up at him while another round of scientists looked on. It wasn’t as nervous a creature as Tretij had anticipated, the mouse running between his hands yet never with panic; instead he could tell it was merely curious, touching the tip of his finger to the warm fur between its ears. 

As predicted, it was a new type of test, different from the ones with just questions and brain scans and machine bits attached to his body. This time they actually wanted to see more of his ability, to learn what he could do with animals. He could levitate the mouse the same as a person, though he felt badly for doing so as he could sense the tiny spike of fear from it even after it was put down, uncomprehending of its situation. He could even control its movements, to the same sad result.

Jarek hated this, hated needlessly harming something that didn’t deserve it. Yet with every command followed through he felt the surge of approval from the people around him, such positive emotions clouding his mind like a drug. It wasn’t something he was used to, and he found himself craving it, drinking it up like he was dying of thirst. Even with his grotesque face, his freakish powers, they still accepted him. He was happy to imagine that all the tests could be like this, and he could enjoy the attention and pretend he wasn’t shuttered away in a laboratory, treated not so differently from the very mouse within his hands. 

The comparison became chilling when they asked him to kill it.

They wanted Jarek to simply switch off its mind, cut the life right from it. He balked immediately, shaking his head, wilting as the positive feelings dried up and left him sensing their annoyance and frustration. To them it was only a mouse, nothing to feel bad about killing; they probably had hundreds if not thousands more that would face even worse fates than this. But it was still a living thing, with soft fur and decipherable emotion, and Jarek didn’t have the heart. 

His warden and translator, huffing in exasperation, took the mouse from his hands, and Jarek hoped that would be the end of it. He wanted to believe they would let it go free after its harrowing experience, though deep down he knew something worse was going to happen. The man squeezed the tiny thing in his oversized fist, the mouse squeaking pitifully in terror as it was constricted. Jarek couldn’t help but cry out as well, grabbing that torturous hand and trying to pry it loose; the man ceased, but still held the animal too tightly for Jarek to get it free.

“Do you see now?” He asked the boy, and Tretij looked up, bright eyes pained. “If you don’t kill it quickly, it will only suffer a worse fate.” He released it into Jarek’s grip, where it dazedly sat, cupped and safe for the moment. “You alone have the power to end its life before it feels that pain. If you care for it, if you don’t want to see its suffering and anguish, you’ll have to choose to kill as an act of mercy.” 

Jarek wanted to say that there was no reason to kill the mouse beyond their sick and twisted reasoning, yet the retort died there, knowing the futility of it. They would torment a living creature just to get the right reaction from him; he knew the man would take Jarek’s reasoning as the end of the test and kill it in an inhumane way. To not end the suffering of a mouse was to create more suffering for himself, and probably more mice down the line. 

There was no mercy to be found anywhere, only selfish reasoning. Tretij Rebenok pushed himself into the mouse’s mind and felt deeper, down to the way its tiny heart was beating so fast, the matching breaths and twitch of its whiskers. It was different from the conscious part of the mind, easier than it should have been to reach inside and disconnect, like pulling a plug. When the mouse fell over in his hands, limp, the approval of the scientists made him feel sick to his stomach. Blood pooled into his hands from its nose and ear, and he nearly dropped it in startled disgust.

His translator plucked its small body from his hands, laid it to rest back in the box he brought it in. Jarek felt positively numb, jaw set, staring at the floor, unable to close his fists and feel the slickness of the blood. It wouldn’t end with mice, he knew; they were building him up, would make him keep killing and hurting. Maybe some of them would even deserve it. He clenched his hands into fists by his sides, trying to isolate his mind from the others so he wouldn’t have to feel their excitement at yet another way he could be destructive. 

And when they then had the gall to ask him how it made him feel, he made his regards for their little exam quite clear, mentally upending a desk and sending the papers on top flying. They squealed in a brief burst of fear and Tretij found that he didn’t regret it in the least, withholding showing his satisfaction when his caretaker grabbed and chewed him out for it. Testing was cut short for the rest of the day. 

Instead of being sent to his room like he expected, his translator pulled him aside to a quiet area, taking more time to teach him Russian than he had previously. He still couldn’t get Tretij to speak it, but his handwriting was at least becoming passable after a couple of hours of working at it. His mind was distracted from really focusing on learning to his fullest, still thinking back to the mouse and regretting there wasn’t more he could do, upset at the thought that he could kill someone so easily.

He knew he had the potential for destruction of course, but the way they had asked him was so much… neater. Cleaner. It detached him from the reality of it, almost, and that was what scared him more than anything. With his village, he had no real recollection of how his rampage had been, only woke to see a small fraction of the chaos and was more focused on his own pain than the thought of how many lay dead around him. Even now he tried not to think of it much, simply because he couldn’t really remember it. If he had, he would probably go mad. The plane’s wreckage, likewise, hid the worst of his killing from his view. 

At the end of the day, it was a thought he couldn’t clear from his head, sitting up in bed with his blanket pulled around his shoulders, staring into the dark like it might provide a clue. Tretij was unsure about talking to Volgin again after their last connection several nights ago, but if anyone would be honest with him and know what he was talking about, it was probably someone like that. Even if Volgin wasn’t all that helpful, it would be nice to at least unload his thoughts onto someone else. 

Lying back on his pillow, he sought out his mind again, breathing deep and easing himself into a connection. As before, Volgin seemed to notice him right away, and there was a clear irritation palpable through their link. Maybe he was upset that Tretij had cut himself off so suddenly before, or that he was always coming into his mind whether he wanted him there or not. Volgin didn’t seem to want to explain himself, so Tretij took the lead, hoping that the man wasn’t so sour as to ignore him.

_‘Volgin, have you killed people?´_ he asked softly. It was a complex subject, probably more so than they could easily manage with their communication disparity. There was a quiet between them before Volgin laughed, as though it were the funniest joke he had heard all day. It wasn’t quite the reaction Tretij was expecting.

_‘Yes, a lot. Why?’_ Volgin finally managed to pull himself together, no longer quite so upset. Tretij felt wary now, unsure if Volgin was going to treat his pain like a joke. He probably would: he thought killing people was no big deal, after all.

_‘I think they will want me to kill people, eventually.’_ He thought of the mouse, alive and warm then limp in his hands, and Volgin huffed a breath of amusement. _‘I did it before… but I don’t remember it.’_ Tretij’s memories of the airplane wreckage and the blood on the streets and in the snow of his village were harder for him to swallow, and Volgin took on an almost bored tone.

_‘So? If you stay here, you’ll eventually kill more. Isn’t that part of your training? If it isn’t yet, it will be.’_ Volgin was utterly nonchalant, and Tretij found himself becoming irritated, not knowing if he was taking this seriously at all.

_‘I don’t want to. Isn’t it wrong?’_ Tretij wanted more understanding, didn’t expect he would get the colonel’s seriousness in the form of memories sliding into his skull, of people beaten to death to the point they hardly looked human, nothing left but charred skin and bullet wounds. It made Tretij choke, want to cut away from the reality.

_‘You may as well get used to it,’_ Volgin explained, not abating his memories nor seeming remorseful for them. _‘Is it right? Wrong? It doesn’t matter. You’ll kill because you’re told, or because you want to.’_ Tretij couldn’t comprehend such a cold mentality, but then again, he had not seen half the things Volgin had, couldn’t know what his life was like. _‘You say you killed before. Why?’_

_‘Because I was afraid.’_ Tretij remembered it all too clearly, his father in the kitchen, more a beast than a man when he felt how much he hated his son. _‘The second time, it wasn’t… me. Someone was angry, got into my head. I couldn’t stop.’_ He carefully avoided sharing his memory of it; it was the same thing that sent Volgin into a fit before. He couldn’t say Volgin was a completely pleasant conversation partner, but at least his frankness right now was refreshing.

_‘Most people are, the first time.’_ Volgin gave what felt like the mental equivalent of a shrug. _‘Even if you like it. But you’ve killed once, so you will again. And it will get easier, until it’s second nature. You, or them.’_ The way he said it, Tretij knew he was speaking from years of experience. He had seen it happen, an endless loop. If they were both pawns in the scheme of something bigger, he had no hope of breaking the cycle. Tretij had already started himself on a path he couldn’t walk away from.

_‘Do you… like it? Killing people?'_ Tretij asked, hesitant. He felt he already knew the answer, and the sickening pleasure he felt through the connection after was answer enough. 

_‘Yes.’_ Volgin responded merrily, and Tretij wanted to stop their connection, but there remained some part of him too disgustingly curious to do so. He thought back to how he had crushed that doctor’s wrist like it was nothing, felt proud when he did it. How he flipped the table and enjoyed the screeches of fear for forcing his hand. He had taken a stand for himself, through hurting, scaring someone else. Would he one day kill someone and feel the same way? The triumph of the survivor, instead of the guilt?

_‘You are scared to acknowledge your own strengths,’_ Volgin caught on to Tretij’s thoughts easily, explaining further. _‘You can kill with a thought, even on accident. You’ve already done it. You want to hurt the people who hurt you. Isn’t that why you’re afraid to be angry?’_ Tretij frowned, but where was the lie in it? He put a hand over his tattooed bicep, the lingering soreness a physical jolt. He was afraid, of letting his emotions or the emotions of others run roughshod and take control.

_‘You think you can live being their lab rat, but I can see it in you. People like us, we are either used, or we do the using.’_ Volgin snarled, his own memories surfacing. Electricity arcing between his fingers, using his brute strength to carve a life for himself away from anyone who would control him. _‘If you have no spine, they’ll use you until there’s nothing left. You want something? Show them they can’t stop you from taking it!’_

There was an anger surging from him again, and Tretij let it flow through him; this fury was what made him strong before, let him destroy houses and planes and feel nothing for it. Volgin was right, too right, and that was unnerving. He had thought Volgin brutish, but they weren’t so far removed after all. He had killed, but at least he had not reached the level of perverted enjoyment Volgin achieved from it, wasn’t sure if he even could. 

Severing their connection again, Tretij opened his eyes back to the darkness, felt the emotion drain and leave him more himself. Or really, how much was his? Volgin’s anger stuck with him, or perhaps it was becoming his own; wronged, treated like he was little better than a dog, Volgin had the right idea when he said they would take of him until he drew the line. They had every right to be afraid, their fear feeding into their subjugation of him, trying to control him, to erase it.

A cornered dog wouldn’t endure abuse forever, before it decided to bite back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is mentioned that Venom and Volgin wake on the same day, Feb. 26; Mantis coming to Moscow and BB's waking happened in early February, and while Volgin is showing signs of coming around from his coma, he won't actually wake and burn down the lab until that date. The given timeline makes things move very fast in Phantom Pain, so I've tried to make a little more sense of it.


	4. Chapter 4

Tretij Rebenok was becoming troublesome. 

Since his talk with Volgin, Tretij wasn't feeling quite right. It was hard to tell now, what was the line between his anger and Volgin’s, the older man’s words stuck in his head when he was confronted by more and more things that made him uncomfortable. They would keep taking, keep pushing: Tretij could feel his heart racing in a mix of panic and disconcerting rage when they wanted him to destroy targets, test the limits of his power. 

And for a short time, he even allowed it. He worked out his anger on inanimate things, crushed whatever they put before him and learned how to shield his body using his mind, teleporting away in a flash of black smoke or forming an impenetrable wall, both he used more than once against the scientists buzzing to come too close and stick him with something else. But Tretij’s annoyance would swell too quickly, turn to anger and violence where before he would be quietly resigned. When one of the researchers surprised him by attempting to draw blood while he answered questions, he had knocked her back without warning, her body flung like a ragdoll over a desk.

She had been fine, if a little shaken, but the fact of the matter was that Tretij had done it. Where his caretaker usually found no issue with chastising him, now the man had gone eerily quiet, watching, waiting. They were afraid, all of them. Their fear didn’t make him as satisfied as it had before, because his reactions were coming from a place he couldn’t identify. For some that fear turned to anger, and their rage directed back at him made his emotional imbalance swell all the more, clenching his fists and glaring, waiting. It was only after he was locked back in his room that he began to settle, breath quickening, wondering why he was losing control. 

It had been a few days since he contacted Volgin, unsure since their last talk if they even had anything left to discuss; right or wrong, it felt like just talking to the man had changed him irreversibly, and he was unable to go back to how he was. Tretij could only pace his room until dinner was brought to him, no desk to eat it at since his last had not been replaced following his previous outburst. His warden watched him warily, as though looking for a sign of something Tretij couldn’t begin to guess at.

It wasn’t until after he finished his meal, an intense urge to sleep coming over him, that he realized what the man had been waiting for. He was reminded of the time before his tattoos, feeling heavy and tired, barely able to keep his eyes open while his caretaker hefted him up as easily as he picked up the mouse. It was disorienting, Tretij’s eyes sliding shut to fight the nausea and realizing then that drugging him was, for them, the only way to assure he wouldn’t fight whatever came next. It was likely going to be pretty unpleasant, based on previous experience, but he couldn’t manage to move through the mental fog.

He floated in and out of consciousness as he was put through whatever test they had for him, or at least, what he assumed was a test. Tretij could feel people touching him, a cold metal table at his back. They had undressed him, which while not entirely unusual for some of their examinations, only made him shiver. Whatever they redressed him in felt nothing like what he wore before, heavier and something clinking lightly, but he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t keep his eyes open to see. Whenever he tried, someone unseen would push him back down, gentle persuasion.

There was talking, so much talking in Russian, a droning in the background as Tretij relaxed his mind, finding Volgin waiting for him in short order as his power seeped out. Was he predicting Tretij’s schedule these days? It wasn’t like the boy could say, Volgin’s mind sliding into his own weakened one.

_‘They are saying you are becoming too dangerous to keep here. That you’ll be moved to Leningrad ahead of schedule.’_ Volgin translated, and Tretij wondered how he could make sense of the buzzing just by being in his head. Were they really so close in mind, now, that he could listen through his ears or see through his eyes? He supposed being drugged would make it easier to connect on a deeper level than Tretij usually allowed. 

_‘You’re being awfully calm. Do you want to go?’_ Volgin sounded bored, and Tretij wondered if he could feel his emotions in turn or simply ignored them, small waves of nervousness and fear, this connection a cry for help. What was even happening, anymore?

_‘I… didn’t let them…. But now…’_ The words were hard enough to think, Volgin sending something like annoyance down the line between them. _‘I don’t want to go… I don’t want to be here.’_ He managed, wondering if Volgin could even understand what he was trying to get across. There really was no freedom, his head pounding when he felt them move his arms, a constriction tightening over his chest.

_‘Have you already forgotten what I told you?’_ Volgin growled, a bright pain in his head. It felt like someone was drilling into his eye, the pain bursting from in his skull. _‘You’re not making any sense. Are you saying you don’t want to stay here anymore?’_ He paused, laughed. _‘If that’s what you want, you’re going to Leningrad, so it seems you’ve gotten your wish.’_

_‘That’s not…’_ Tretij winced, tried to move again and felt it utterly useless. He was starting to panic, unable to tell what was happening. Even when he thought his eyes were open all he could see was dark. _‘You… you were right. They’re mad.’_ Mad because of how he fought back to their demands, asserted his own sense of self for perhaps the first time in his life. _‘I don’t want to know… what’s in Leningrad.’_

There was a consideration, Volgin’s mind humming against his own in thought. _‘If you want to leave, you seem to have the power to do so.’_ Utterly unconcerned with anyone else but himself, Tretij wasn’t surprised. But he was stuck, head swimming, trying to fight whatever was done to him. Where would he even go, if he left?

_‘Volgin,’_ His own voice felt so quiet and faded, defeat coming in inches. _‘Are you here because you want to be? Why haven’t you left?’_ And that seemed to bring an interesting reaction, the usual rage and hunger for something Tretij couldn’t guess at. There were memories again, this time the mental link coming with a deeper understanding of them to accompany. 

_‘No; if I could, I would track down the man who tried to kill me. Naked Snake.’_ His voice was like a thunderclap in Tretij’s head, deafening in his anger. _‘He ruined everything, all of my plans… I want nothing more than to kill him.’_ Tretij was sure it was the same man he briefly connected to on the plane, a surge of pain and grief unlike anything else. Although this version from Volgin’s memory was younger, seemed less burdened than the one Tretij had glimpsed. _‘I would leave, but I can’t seem to move. Even you… don’t seem real. After all, you’re only in my head. Sometimes I feel like I’m dreaming.’_

_‘You’re in my head, too,’_ Tretij thought, twisting around. More hands were at his sides, lifting him up again. He felt cocooned, stiff and only able to move his head, but at least enough to discern that the darkness was because they had put some sort of covering over his eyes. He was feeling more awake now, either his connection to Volgin strengthening his mind or the drugs were wearing off. He licked his lips, feeling the indent of the past stitches there, the strange stiffness of healed burns. _‘I… if I help you, will you help me?’_

Volgin snorted, clearly bemused by the fact a child believed he could be of any use. _‘You can’t even help yourself. You think you’ll be able to do anything for anyone else?’_ There was a moment of doubt, where Tretij wondered if he was right, before he set his jaw, mustered up that courage he had taken so long to dig out before.

_‘That man, who tried to kill you,’_ Tretij summoned the memory, felt the anger and dismissed it. _‘I think I know where he is. I felt his mind, before coming here.’_ It was a long shot, in all honesty, a sliver a truth wrapped in a lie. He had a direction at best, flashing the memory he had fished from this Snake’s mind as proof. _‘If you can help me, then I’ll show you.’_ His desperation was pulling at the seams of his strength, not knowing how much longer he had until he was taken from Moscow and this lab, lost his opportunity.

There was a surge of mixed emotions that took time to pick apart: anticipation, fury, interest. _‘I don’t know how you expect me to help, as I just told you I can’t move._ ’ He responded, his mind pushing at Tretij’s with unrestrained eagerness. It was true, Tretij had no idea how he would get him from one place to another, if there was a physical body left. But he didn’t necessarily have to find Volgin. Volgin already found him.

_‘Your anger,’_ Tretij swallowed, unsure of this arrangement he was about to propose, but knowing there was little choice anyway. _‘Before, I could use those emotions, it made me stronger. I… I need it.’_ He wondered if he might lose his mind just to escape, weighed the possibilities of which could be worse. He could eventually be like Volgin, induced into a sleep so deep that he would be stuck forever. _‘Once I escape, I’ll find you.’_

Tretij could feel himself moving now, was sure he was in another wheelchair. His panic must have been noticeable, someone checking his pulse and speaking quietly to another; they must have figured out he was shaking off whatever they gave him. He was running out of time, gritting his teeth when Volgin started chuckling, his laughter gaining volume until it was echoing inside Tretij’s head.

_‘You have a deal, Tretij Rebenok.’_

* * *

It reminded Tretij of his village, the way the heat just seemed to mount around him, making his skin itch terribly. He was floating, but still stuck with his arms and legs immobile, his blindfold having fallen off and revealing the chaos to his dull eyes. Volgin’s initial burst into his mind had overtaken him for a moment, was magnified, pushed out in a shockwave that had turned the hall into ruin with cracked walls and seared tiles. The people who had been escorting him were now lying on the floor, knocked out or dead from the blast, Tretij didn’t know. Didn’t care, not now.

Volgin was still pushing into his head, commanding his body to move, to seek out his room somewhere in the depths of this facility. It was a beacon, honing in the same way he had felt the Snake before, except this time Volgin wasn’t going anywhere. Tretij’s mind was dragged along with nary another thought except to find, aching and pounding, the power of those negative feelings crushing doors and shattering windows with invisible force.

Volgin’s room was not empty when he found it; there was, in fact, more commotion inside of it than outside, people hovering around a bed where the colonel lay. He looked different from his picture, something over his face, pieces of what appeared to be shrapnel sticking out here and there; and yet it was undoubtedly his mind calling to Tretij, a painful siren song. The cause of concern for the scientists seemed to be the machines attached to that prone body, beeping rapidly, only looking to Tretij when their door was crushed in like it was made of paper, tossed aside and dented a wall.

There was a pause between everyone, watching, waiting; Tretij could tell Volgin was looking out through his eyes, seeing himself from the outside. Based on the setup of the room, he had been here for a very long time, was clearly not intended to leave. Of course, that would be changing, now. Volgin was beginning to smoke and spark, the wires and tubes attached sizzling and popping, snapping away from his body while the scientists shrieked. He was upset, confused, those emotions funneling through his host until Tretij could feel another burst of power breaking through. Volgin was moving.

His body was stumbling, turning into a blaze, and Tretij gained his faculties enough to feel his own fear at the transformation, reeling away. The fire was searing into him again, his panic only fueling Volgin’s strength. His bound feet hit the ground, and Tretij fell, unable to move away from the fire consuming everything. The few people who had hidden inside were caught in it as well, the sight of it making Tretij retch. He could feel the attachment to Volgin’s mind clearly, the colonel’s body only mobile under borrowed power. Tretij wasn’t sure if he could stop it now, even if he wanted to. A deal was a deal.

_‘Get up,’_ Volgin commanded, stalking forward, leaving scorched earth behind him. Tretij felt his mind slam back against him, unable to do more than worm backwards in the strange outfit he was put in. He didn’t want that fire to touch him, not ever again; Volgin was fire personified, glowing eyes and insatiable hunger bearing down on him. _‘You wanted to be free, undo your own chains!’_ Volgin ground into his head; Tretij’s breath quickened, closing his eyes to it. 

He may have practiced undoing the bed straps in the hospital, but under duress and the blare of fire sirens, it was much harder to mentally unlatch anything. Tretij pulled at his restraints, trying to feel out where the buckles were. The ones at his ankles were simple to undo with a direct line of sight, but his arms took time, fingers practically numb from the position until they were freed. The long black sleeves dangled down, dragged on the floor until Tretij floated back up. It was hardly a convenient outfit, thick material sweltering in the heat of the fire, but at least he had regained his movement. Satisfied, Volgin pulled at his power again, started to stalk away.

Tretij followed. He had no clue as to the layout of this place, but was more content to let Volgin attempt to lead. He wasn’t exactly fast, and the fire of his body still catching whatever they passed, the smoke making Tretij's eyes burn. They made their way up, most people fleeing from the sound of the fire sirens before they even noticed them. Volgin took aim at some who wandered too close or had any illusions of heroism, and Tretij turned his eyes away, tried not to think about it. The price of his freedom was steep, but hardly any worse than what he had already done. 

It wasn’t until they began getting too close to leaving, the lobby in sight, that they encountered resistance; a man Tretij recognized as the one who had tattooed him stepped out of a nearby office and in front of Volgin’s assault, a gun in hand. The boy couldn’t help the sudden drop in his stomach, eyes widening as he hid himself behind Volgin when the man began to fire. To his surprise it didn’t seem to faze Volgin at all, the colonel only absorbing the projectiles before a resounding laugh flowed through his head. He was able to deflect them back at the man who marked him as though it were nothing, two shots tearing viscerally through his stomach and shoulder with a spray of blood. The screaming echoed off the empty hallways.

_‘Wait,’_ Tretij regained enough of himself to tear away from Volgin, the colonel freezing in place as he floated toward his previous captor, watching him try to stem the bleeding and writhing in pain, a bright stain on the white floor like blood on snow. He tried to ignore the similarities, trying to be glad that with Volgin attached to his mind, he wasn’t prone to having it overtaken by any other strong thoughts or pain around him. The man couldn’t even hold his gun, hands slick with blood and shaking when his little prisoner approached, asking as he had once some time ago, for his mask.

Of course neither he nor Volgin seemed to understand right away, Tretij pushing the image of the mask with its glinting orange lenses and double filters into the man’s head. Surely, as one of his welcoming party upon arrival, he would know where it was hidden. His mind was fuzzed with the intense pain, growing pale from blood loss, but Tretij waited, digging into his thoughts and feeling little resistance. Just because the man didn’t want to answer didn’t mean Tretij couldn’t find it, a memory surfacing and the psychic pulling it to the forefront: the room that he had come from, a row of lockers with Russian across the front, one of them designated for him. 

Tretij released his hold, moving swiftly and trying to remember how exactly his name was shown in Russian. All the lockers looked the same, a sickly green that was even worse under fluorescent lighting, unhelpful. He could hear Volgin on the move again, finishing off his quarry and radiating annoyance that Tretij had detoured even so slightly from their goal. However he also became intrigued by the names when he stomped in after, fire dulled to smoke and sparks, finding his own listed among them. 

Tretij simply began crushing the locks and pulling them open, fortunately finding his mask on the second one. It was exactly as he remembered, untouched if a little dusty, sitting alone on his neatly-folded white scrubs from before, and he pushed back his overlong sleeves and grasped it. Volgin had punched another locker and was confiscating its contents himself, though Tretij paid him no mind as his trembling hands put his mask back where it belonged, tightening it and feeling a surge of relief. Volgin’s influence dulled, his mind settled more than ever. 

Stroking a finger over the filter, he glanced back at Volgin, who had pulled the long green coat from the picture out of the locker and put it on, and was now examining the contents of the desk. The coat was a little ragged, either from whatever had happened before or moth-eaten, maybe even both; but the colonel still buttoned it up, smoothed down the tattered front like it made all the difference. Volgin seemed somewhat distressed by whatever he was reading before it went up in flames between his hands, clenching them into fists and turning away. Time to go.

Tretij and Volgin both shared a quiet surprise that there wasn’t more resistance between them and freedom, most seeming to want to run or hide out of their way. And who could blame them, with Tretij reassuming his masked appearance like a monster, and Volgin a demon in his own right, the world turning to fire around him as they moved forward. As much as Tretij hated it, at least it kept them safe from interlopers. 

Outside of the lab the world stretched on, cold and dark, the lights of the city twinkling in the distance. A few more scattered people outside attempted to rush them, but Volgin made short work of any resistance, snow evaporating in a hiss around him. Tretij strayed, looked behind at the lab and the flames just beginning to lick up from their escape in the basement to the ground floor; soon the whole building would be engulfed, the heat oppressive even here. He was tugged away easily by Volgin’s will, putting the image from his mind. It seemed wherever he would go, went up in flames. 

_‘Which way?’_ Volgin seemed giddy to be out, to finally be on the road to revenge. It was also a good idea, Tretij thought, to get away from the building as quickly as possible before backup arrived. Although he reached out his mind looking for that strong presence again, he couldn’t sense that Snake; there was not even a promise that he would be where Tretij had sensed him initially. 

In the forest where he had wandered, waiting in the cold by the plane until it got dark, he could remember the patterns of the stars overhead. He wasn’t the best at navigating by them as he rarely needed to do it, but could remember a couple constellations well enough to know he was going almost due south; from Moscow he might be going a little to the west to make up for the shift, but maybe not that much. Late in the winter as it was, finding Orion proved easy enough, reaching up and tracing a line south and floating that way, trying to ignore how cold his feet were becoming in the open air.

With Volgin traveling behind quietly like a smoldering ghost, Tretij just hoped this whole affair would be over soon. And that he would figure out what he was doing before they got there.

* * *

Aside from the heat he was constantly putting off, Tretij found Volgin to be a somewhat unpleasant traveling partner. He constantly needed reassurance that they were going the right way, and that Tretij was absolutely positive his Snake was going to be wherever they were headed. Maybe he could sense Tretij’s uncertainty, buried deep and away as they kept going south. Tretij sincerely hoped not. His mask should have shielded him from such prying, anyway.

Part of him wondered why he didn’t take the opportunity to leave, just go off on his own and maybe see if he could make it back to… somewhere. In a much bigger sense he was still only a child, thrust into the world with only Volgin left as his awful, not-really guardian. At best he really only directed Tretij on what paths would be safest to avoid drawing attention, and what scavenged foods were safe to eat, the rest of the time lapsing into moody silence. They didn’t really talk, and based on the kinds of chats they had before, that suited Tretij fine. They weren’t friends. 

But there were most certainly people after them now, looking to reclaim their two lost experiments, and Tretij figured he had far better chances at survival if he stuck with someone who commanded all attention on him. Being a very tall man made of fire when he fueled his anger into Tretij did it well enough. For now his heat was quiet but warm, no physical flames, better to avoid drawing attention from creating a massive forest fire that would reveal their location. Eventually Volgin’s slow movements meant he came to rely on Tretij to get them out of harm’s way, able to cover far more ground when the psychic boy carried them both mentally. 

A week of walking, and flying, and they reached the Black Sea, skirted along its eastern shore down into Georgia then Turkey. Despite how fast they moved Volgin was constantly paranoid of someone following, and Tretij couldn’t blame him; he felt them sometimes, other minds in the distance, but not close enough to be a worry or moving in. Just… watching. Local skirmishes covered their tracks but could leave them in the way of the fighting if they made themselves too obvious. He dug no deeper into who they were, instead trying to remain focused on finding this man, the Snake. 

It was very sudden when he did, a few days later, trying his best to relax into the hollow of a tree to rest as their two person band stopped for the night. He had stolen some smoked meat and walnuts from a small village they came across, not sure what kind it was but ate it slowly while letting his mind relax and reach out to determine their safety, one hand holding up his mask enough to do so without removing it entirely. Volgin never seemed to eat, and other than when he pulled on Tretij’s mind, was almost entirely silent now. He wondered if the man was truly alive at all, away from those machines and aside from his anger, or if without Tretij he would simply fall apart. 

Beyond them, maybe some miles away, again pressed that presence, soft and nonthreatening. The observers. They lurked so far away he couldn’t tell their thoughts, only the gentle waves of calm emotions getting caught up in his own. It was kind of nice; he could leave the watchdogging to Volgin, not have to bark at every little movement. But there was something more that came to his mind, something familiar, sharp-toothed and waiting in the dark like a predator. In a moment of revelation he clung to it, sitting up so quickly and intent that even Volgin turned to stare, curious. 

Tretij couldn’t be completely sure. It had been some time since he felt it before, but the way it crawled into his head, held on tight… there was no mistake. The Snake was still out there, and they were getting close. Maybe not terribly so, the feeling as faint as when he had been in the snowy forest before it vanished, but being on the right track was good enough. He hesitated to share this with Volgin, self-consciously touching the edge of his mask before pulling it back into place and tightening the straps.

No, if he waited the situation could change by the morning. Despite the darkness he wasn’t all that tired either, fully awake now that he had been startled into it. The sooner they found this man, the sooner Tretij could figure out what he was going to do from there. After Volgin took his revenge he was certain he would need to find his own path. Maybe he would find something interesting along the way. 

It was two more days of their journey before they came to another body of water, looking out across it. Tretij could feel the Snake’s mind even more strongly now, certain they were nearly there. Volgin was able to guess, approximately, where they were, standing back from the water and mentioning something about the Mediterranean Sea and an island called Cyprus. Tretij trusted him to know far more of this geography, but was unable to see an island at all. The sun was starting to set anyway, the ends of his sleeves caught in the push and pull of the tide where he floated above the shore. 

As much as Tretij disliked having to cross open water, especially at night and tired as he was, Volgin insisted. He was practically crackling with energy, his demands grating into Tretij’s head. Flying got them across in an a few hours more, just as Volgin claimed it would, with Tretij wanting to collapse as soon as they hit the other shore, head aching from his tracking and pushing his power so much without sleep. 

It was hard enough to find cover to stay in for the rest of the night, the arid landscape not providing much that was adequate for them both, especially with so many people around; with the end of the journey so close, Volgin was positively restless, which didn’t help Tretij to get adequate sleep before being woken up again, sometime in the afternoon. His mouth was dry and disgusting, hungry and exhausted, pushing on albeit slowly. They only stopped again shortly before nightfall, on the outskirts of some sort of military base. 

Tretij could feel the call of the Snake’s mind so strongly that he had a hard time keeping himself from being drawn to it, that same hunger existing quietly in the back of his head. Without Volgin biting at the bit, taking hold of his mind and power shamelessly, he might have given in to it. Instead he was falling to the same direction, waiting for the cover of darkness to move toward what revealed itself to be a hospital. Volgin commented something, sounding annoyed, but Tretij was barely able to register it. There was a convergence of energies here that made it hard to stay focused, his tired body wanting to agree to their pushing and pulling. 

_‘Something isn’t right.’_ Volgin disturbed the sleepy ringing of Tretij’s thoughts, watching the hospital warily. Tretij could feel it too, now that it was mentioned; for a military hospital he supposed there should be a certain amount of military presence, but what was rolling in now seemed like it was ready for a full-out assault. A helicopter had begun to hover, as if waiting, people entering the hospital in combat gear and guns drawn. It set him to alarm to hear them firing only moments later, an explosion going off near the roof. 

_‘I don’t know what they’re here for,’_ Volgin started with a roar, drawing up his power and ready to fight. _‘but they won’t beat me to my goal. Where is he?’_ Tretij pressed his hand to his head, mind pulled in so many directions. He could hardly focus on just one, looking at the façade of the building. He would have to go in, look firsthand. There was too much going on otherwise. He pulled Volgin alongside, vanishing into black mist to keep from drawing the attention of these strange people as he slipped in to the chaos.

The lower floors were already dissolving into screams and spurts of gunfire, Tretij ignoring them, picking out that one silver string of consciousness from them all and pulling it. It led him up, the sounds there growing quiet and his own focus on this Snake growing louder. Oddly, his consciousness felt split, torn between fuzzed and pained and alertness, Tretij wondering if the amount of people around was making his concentration wane. He reappeared at a distance from his goal, not wishing to be too close in case of danger, his bare feet lowering silently onto the cold floor.

“What the Hell is that?” English, and not anything Tretij could understand. Looking up, he saw two people, one of them bearing what he supposed was a fairly close resemblance to the man they were after, crawling on the floor like the Snake Volgin titled him. There was a ruined eye were the eyepatch would be, the other man so bandaged it was impossible to see his face. It reminded him of his own hospital stay, gritting his teeth behind his mask when Volgin’s consciousness thundered into his head. He supposed it didn’t matter which was which, Volgin was content to kill them both. He floated up, away from the incoming fight, able to feel the heat coming up alongside the colonel himself.

The explosion was deafening, even from another area entirely. Tretij preferred to stay out of the way in this situation, knowing that it would likely be as messy as their escape from Moscow. Volgin’s anger, satisfaction, all rang over the jolt of pain from his quarry. Tretij curled in on himself in an empty hospital room, trying to keep his mind from dissolving into disorder. He didn’t know if Volgin would savor the moment or want to take his revenge as quickly as possible, but in a place like this he hoped it would be the latter. 

Instead he felt next a screech of pain that was like a punch to the stomach, another ringing alarm and the hiss of water. Neither Tretij nor Volgin himself had considered that the fire was a physical manifestation of consciousness, that it might cause pain to have it disrupted. The response was sharp, like being burned all over again, and Tretij gasped and shivered, lost his ability to float for a moment and fell to the floor, stumbling and summoning Volgin away from it. 

His body appeared, was steaming and lifeless as a charcoal briquette, even though Volgin’s mind was still screaming out in defiance of it. Knowing the man, he would have gladly kept going if he could, but the pain was too deafening for Tretij to bear. It was clear to them both the Snake was weak, it wouldn’t be hard to find him again. Volgin crackled, the fire surging beneath. He would dry off, would get another opportunity. 

In the meantime Tretij refocused, found the Snake again. He was on the move, much faster than his weakened appearance suggested he could manage. But he was still in the hospital, still evading all these strange people who seemed to want not just him, but everyone dead. The panicked ones were picked off, eventually only the cold and calculating minds muddling his thoughts. Volgin would be upset if he lost his opportunity to these people, growling at Tretij to go scout the Snake out again. 

It wasn’t difficult. With less people he located him easily, still together with the bandaged man in a hall littered with so many bodies and blood that the stench was disgustingly strong even through his filters. The armed people were there too, Tretij vanishing before they could get a sight on him. He didn’t want to be in such a place, and Volgin was ready to fight again, Tretij swapping the colonel back in to the assault.

Volgin’s power only seemed to grow more immense the more he was opposed; Tretij could feel it, fire absorbing fire, returning it with twice the strength he received it. The anger, the hatred and the psychological pain, all made Volgin so much more of a danger. Tretij hardly felt like himself, breathing deep and slow and trying to remain in control instead of being caught up in the power drain. Outside he could see the flash of a helicopter, taken down by Volgin and spinning away, felt nothing except that same raw hunger for revenge scraping him hollow.

It ended quickly again, much the same. The Snake was outwitting Volgin, whose single focus made him too easily blind to the threat of water. He fought Tretij against being pulled away to safety, the boy depositing him in another corridor close by and shaking off the burning pain that dulled his head. It wasn’t really safe anywhere here, but Tretij felt better keeping himself and Volgin separated. If he was going to scout, he couldn’t be encumbered by a hulking man with a death wish.

Tretij followed at a distance, remaining out of sight. If not for the massive forces against them, it might have been an easy escape. The one with the bandages was formidable, his mind quiet despite the commotion around them while the other struggled to keep up. Yet, it was the weaker of the two Volgin seemed intent on killing. Perhaps it was only a fluke that Tretij was seeing him like this. It wasn’t his concern why Volgin wanted him dead. 

When they both separated, the bandaged one attempting to draw the attention for the benefit of the other, Tretij floated back toward the one with the shrapnel stuck in his head, watched him struggle to get to the doorway. At this proximity he could feel the chafe of the Snake’s mind again, grimacing and feeling his power leaking out, grabbing onto his force. Volgin was snarling in the back of his mind, his words unimportant in that moment. 

Rubble was lifting, distracting the enemy, Tretij inching closer to the Snake under the call of his power. He pulled back before he could be seen, Volgin carving his presence back into his head and grasping Tretij’s mind again. He hated feeling pulled in so many directions at once, lightheaded as Volgin commanded him to not allow for an escape. The rubble he had begun pulling up was suitable for this purpose, throwing it into the door and blocking it off while Volgin commandeered his power again, summoned into a place the Snake couldn’t easily escape from him now.

Tretij stayed back, didn’t need to see the ruthless way Volgin would clear out another room with blood and bullets in short order. Finding the Snake among them was harder, a man who was used to being stealthy not as handily drawn out when at a known disadvantage. Volgin’s frustration only grew when the armed forces bashed through his blockade with a tank, more people pouring in. They were only a distraction to someone like him, not a challenge. 

At Volgin’s insistence, Tretij showed himself in front, floating, waiting for a command. He had the ability to block things with his mind, that much Volgin knew, but bullets were untested. Tretij felt himself quite literally put his life on the line, tense and waiting. The soldiers seemed confused, looking between each other briefly as though uncertain of his presence, and Tretij wanted to fall back, his mental barriers maybe not strong enough for this when he was feeling weak enough. 

But Volgin held him fast, the bullets coming on suddenly and bouncing off nothing, barely arm's length from Tretij's face. Each hit was a knock against his mind, annoying but not painful as suspected. He suspected Volgin only forced his hand as a test, Tretij loathing him in that moment and using it to break away, vanishing and letting Volgin take the hits again. These people would need to be cleared as well, Volgin demanding of him another task. The control seeped through, Tretij focusing on the battered helicopter behind. The blades were still attached, if banged up; it would do well to clear the path. 

It was rather grotesque, and Tretij wasn’t sure if the growing enjoyment over his power was his own or Volgin’s, the colonel’s control worming its way into his head. From above the smashed helicopter the wind of the swirling blades ruffled his hair before cutting sideways, slicing and battering the soldiers, knocking them aside in sprays of blood, bodies left torn partially or completely. Tretij could feel their suffering, dropping the helicopter and trying his best to block it out before being refocused; the Snake was moving again. Volgin could handle whoever was coming in next. 

The ensuing blast was enough to nearly kill the man Volgin sought, Tretij vanishing out of the way but feeling the Snake knocked out the front, dazed but still holding on to consciousness. The boy remained at a distance, Volgin able to use their shared consciousness to locate him once the tank was knocked away. Volgin really lived for these fights, enjoyed the rush of power he could get from Tretij, annoyance at distraction giving way to the thrill of a hunt nearing conclusion. 

He was still too single-minded to notice danger when it approached, in this case at a very fast speed and knocking the colonel away on the front of an ambulance that careened into the hospital before reversing. The assault had been so unexpected Tretij might have laughed in any other scenario, instead overcome with Volgin’s rage as the Snake climbed in, escaping much faster than either could follow. Volgin knocked away the firetrucks that came screaming in like toys, calling Tretij to heel like a dog. The fire was burning so hot Tretij could barely stand to be near the man, who was looking up at the hospital statue of a rearing horse now, wheels turning. 

Tretij couldn’t animate a statue like the real thing, couldn’t just summon a horse out of thin air; but what Volgin wanted was an apparition, a facsimile that would do the job even better. And that was even harder to do, his mind limited to manipulation and not creation of something physical. From the statue called to Volgin’s mind another memory, of a similar horse with a white body and dark mane, a woman sitting proudly in the saddle. Volgin dismissed it quickly, staying focused on the image of an animal ready to bear a rider into battle, summoning the image to him in fire.

The boy would be lying if he said he wasn’t surprised it was possible at all, no time to think on this new development when Volgin was kicking him back into gear, demanding he lead them while pulling himself onto the horse’s back. The Snake had a lead but hadn’t gotten too far yet, Tretij able to orient himself that way after a quick feel for what he was looking for. He wasn’t much faster than Volgin’s horse, which was fortunately able to climb well over the terrain and avoid the worst of the traffic and soldiers coming to get them. 

He was beginning to wonder how many of them there could be, Volgin and his new horse too bright to make them inconspicuous as they tried to move. Tretij was forced to break away when the skirmishes worsened, Volgin drawing fire and setting the boy to stay on the hunt, letting him go ahead rather than potentially lose his prey again. Tretij was all too glad to do so, knowing that the Snake was sitting still now, no longer moving, unconscious. Was he hiding or perhaps captured? Volgin wouldn’t be happy about that.

The ambulance the two men had escaped in was flipped off the road and onto its back, the glass shattered out and looking much worse for wear than before when Tretij found it. The one with the bandages around only his forehead was climbing out of it now and looked to be alone, just barely able to heave himself from the vehicle. Tretij could feel the pull of his mind here, separate from Volgin. It was a muddled, confusing thing; like an animal only wanting to get away to lick its wounds. When the light of one of the helicopters lit him up, the Snake held his hand up to shield his eyes while he considered where to go from here.

This wouldn’t do; Volgin would be upset if he didn’t make it to put an end to the man himself, not to mention the way the Snake’s mind pulled at his own, still after everything not resigned to his fate… Tretij would have found it inspiring, in another lifetime. Showing himself only made the Snake all the more apprehensive, pulling back briefly as Tretij hovered between him and the search beam before turning. He would let the Snake destroy the helicopter, as something of a parting gift. 

The connection was shallow but enough to feel into his mind, the Snake preoccupied with some thoughts over the man who had been with him; their exchanges were unintelligible, but something about their names, to the Snake, conjured up images of a roiling sea and one man standing against it, a massive whale rising from the water. Before the last few weeks, Tretij had never even seen the ocean, and still had yet to see a whale. But the man pulled into Tretij's psyche regardless, the boy opening his eyes and drawing the fire he could feel amassing from Volgin on his way to him. His power exploded out and up, a whale shaping itself from the flames with smoke billowing up like the soft foam of a wave before swallowing the helicopter whole and crushing it in a mass of destruction. 

With Volgin back, Tretij was recalled, vanishing toward the colonel who hung in the air after reabsorbing the fire, his horse fury with wings and a horn, as much a demon as his owner. Rather than allow Tretij to retreat from the frontlines, Volgin grasped him by one of the belts on the back of his jacket, hefting him onto the creature in front of him. Despite the heat and the appearance of flames, the horse didn’t actually seem to be burning him, though it did nothing for Tretij’s panicked mind, torn between steadying or covering himself. Volgin was only interested in the chase, releasing Tretij to vanish as soon as the Snake took off on his own steed. 

From above the trees, Volgin’s massive flames were a handy guide as he and the Snake crossed the forest. Being shot at only hobbled Volgin a little, the blasts disorienting to his control but not a deterrent. He crashed through fallen logs like they were twigs, fired back his own superheated attacks, caught up to the Snake and his new partner only to have his catch stolen away by rain and a lightning strike, the horse falling from the broken bridge into the water below. Volgin and his own were forced to halt or careen over the edge, a scream of frustration from both horse and rider as they paced and the rain sizzled on them.

Tretij floated down into the crevasse, watched as the man and animal pulled themselves from the water, the Snake looking up at him as Tretij’s feet alighted upon the dirt. It was strange to him, how one man could inspire so much chaos and strife, hundreds of deaths in a single night just to get to him. Tretij held up his arms, barely able to feel the rain through the thick canvas of his jacket, water drops collecting on his lenses as he looked back to where Volgin waited impatiently. The rain was picking up, Volgin calling Tretij back to him to find shelter, oddly growing apprehensive of the thunder and lightning. For now, the Snake had won his freedom.

* * *

With the whole southern part of the island on alert and dealing with the damage caused from the mess of the night, it was hard to find shelter that would keep Tretij and Volgin well and truly hidden without concern of being discovered. At least Volgin had gotten rid of that horse, let it dissolve in the rain or whatever he had done, removing one potential bullseye from their backs. Tretij was so drained he could hardly keep his eyes open, more walking than floating when he had to carry Volgin as well. 

The rain was starting to pick up when they finally found shelter, a small military checkpoint that lay on a stretch of road no longer used for base operations. It wouldn’t be a comfortable fit, hardly a shack with one service window and a door that needed its rusted hinge busted to get inside; but as out of the way as it was, they were unlikely to be disturbed by the damage control going on. It was dry and safer than sleeping out in the open, so it would do well for them for one night.

Volgin stood in one corner, more statue than human with how the rain had stiffened him up, while Tretij made a nest of sorts beneath the counter, only a meter or so between them. The room was stacked with some boxes and discarded papers that made a better shield than nothing, Tretij feeling safer blocked in with the countertop over his head. The floor was uncomfortable, but it would have to do, unable to float in his sleep even if he had the energy left to do so. 

He knew Volgin was irritated, was fully aware the Snake was escaping as they rested. Unfortunately he couldn’t use Tretij like he had his horse; there was only so much a small, tired boy who had barely eaten or slept in the last two days could manage after hours of having his mind pulled and drained by various people, and Volgin couldn’t work in the rain. It was miraculous Tretij even made it this far, trying to ignore the painful itching of his burns against the discomfort of a dirty tile floor. Even so, it took hardly any time until he fell asleep, curled on his side with the sleeves of his jacket wrapped loosely around his waist.

There was blessed nothingness for a scant few hours, the sound of birds outside the window soft in Tretij’s ears when he started coming to again. The little outpost was bathed in a gray morning light, but that was not what had woken him. Someone was coming; in his rest his mind wandered and expanded, not leaving him completely vulnerable to being sneaked up on while asleep. Volgin was starting to stir as well, catching on to the fact that they were no longer alone. 

To stay or to flee? Tretij was rested enough now that the latter might be possible, but it would still be difficult to navigate terrain he knew little about. He could check outside and see who was surrounding them, but it might just draw their attention and leave him at a disadvantage without the dark to cover him. Volgin was already tugging at his head, heating up their small room and ready for another brawl while Tretij remained hidden under the countertop. Letting Volgin loose might open up their only opportunity to get away.

Tretij opened up his mind, felt the draw on his energy before the colonel flared up and began to move, busting down their broken door and rushing out to face whoever had come for them. Tretij followed, teleporting outside but attempting to remain with enough distance to stay out of the line of fire. 

The people waiting outside were not much in number, their uniforms matching the ones the soldiers wore in the hospital. Although Tretij had believed they had tracked him and Volgin down, they seemed surprised when the two appeared, one soldier grasping his radio while the other fired to deter Volgin before being struck down in a fireball. They were defensive rather than offensive, and didn’t even notice him, the small boy floating outside their periphery while they focused on Volgin.

Their behavior didn’t match what Tretij had seen before; they didn’t appear to want to fight, getting out of Volgin’s path and trying their best to keep from inciting another attack. Even the colonel himself seemed confused by their tactics, though he was only stopped from continuing to rush them when both his and Tretij’s attention refocused on a helicopter on approach.

It was a noisy thing, kicking up dust as it came to hover above the road, and Tretij was being drawn in; there was a hunger for revenge, a desire and anger within that put even Volgin to shame, Tretij’s mind subconsciously latching on to it. He wasn’t sure if Volgin even realized when he reappeared nearby, the fire on his body dying down as curiosity won out. Tretij let his feet rest upon the ground, the wet dirt sticking to his feet.

It was the first one who stepped out of the doors that Tretij locked in on, knowing instantly he was the one whose mind was calling to his. The stranger strode forward with a self-assured gait that seemed out of line with the tense nervousness of his group, motioning for them to relax with his hat obscuring his face. Volgin might have been saying something to Tretij now, but his presence in the psychic’s mind was taking a backseat to this new person. Perhaps through their shared connection, even Volgin could feel that there was something interesting about this man.

When the stranger looked up, revealing himself, Tretij shuddered at the way he wormed into his head without even truly focusing on the boy. The man’s face was scarred even more than Tretij’s own, gray-blue like a perpetual bruise with a mask that hid none of it. It took him a moment to realize that the man was speaking, though in Russian and to Volgin; the colonel was listening intently, though outside of using Tretij’s connection to project an answer, he had no way to respond. Tretij waited, mental shields up and ready just in case.

‘He wants us to come with him, do some work in exchange for more opportunities to eliminate that Snake.’ Volgin finally commented to Tretij after the man finished whatever he had to say, but remained frozen in place without Tretij’s attention. This new consciousness pressed into Tretij’s and demanded he relent, overwhelming him with calmness in a way that even Volgin’s anger didn’t manage. The man watched the pair of them as though he were solving a puzzle in his head, considering a new angle.

Tretij could tell this man was infinitely more dangerous than anyone he had come across so far, everything about him radiating power. Yet because he seemed willing to engage in talks, even one-sided ones, there had to be something he was still after, and that made him a little apprehensive. Volgin seemed intent to tag along, and Tretij couldn’t help but feel that same attraction under it all; it was frightening, nestling deep and intoxicating. 

Volgin was Tretij’s shield before, but this newcomer would be his sword. It was the difference between a creek and a raging river in terms of strength. Tretij willingly conceded, knowing there was little other choice left to him, and it would be better to make some sort of lasting ally for the day Volgin achieved his goal. He might have been a little afraid of what he would be asked to do, but he was already so far gone, amassing power to protect himself even though he was still just a puppet in the end. As much as it pained Tretij to admit it, he doubted he could ever go back to a normal life after having lived these things. He would always been a tool to someone.

This unspoken agreement seemed to be well understood, Tretij bringing both himself and Volgin into the waiting helicopter. He didn’t much like the confined space, feeling trapped and vulnerable as the scarred man and two soldiers climbed in after, going now to God knew where. Tretij could feel their eyes on him even with his mask on, tried to ignore it for now and just hoped they got to wherever they were headed quickly. 

He focused instead on trying to get a read on the leader, who was sitting across and still watching his two new assets with interest. If there was something he wanted to say he appeared to be mulling it over, Tretij gently pushing back against the stream of thought with his face still downturned to his lap. That mind was a tidal wave of information and images he couldn’t understand, rooted in his desire to get revenge for everything that had happened to him; Tretij had to dig in against the pressure, pulling and uprooting memories that held that same familiarity, these emotions not unfamiliar to him-

“It’s rude to go digging around in someone else’s head before you’ve even been properly introduced, Tretij Rebenok.” The man chastised gently, as though amused. Tretij looked up slowly, felt the press of those eyes burrowing deep down into his head. It was more startling that he understood the man’s words immediately, unaccented Slovak a far cry from the smooth way he was speaking Russian before. “Surprised that I know who you are? Both you and Colonel Volgin left Lomonosov with a bang, not a whimper.” 

He was more surprised about the Slovak, in all honesty, but Tretij didn’t feel like opening a dialogue with this man just yet. The way he was watching him was unsettling, and Tretij withdrew, looking away again. He could hear him chuckling deeply, silence returning to the cabin. Tretij had a feeling it was a long way to where they were going, and he was starting to regret wishing for something interesting to come up all that time ago. Just a little predictability would have been nice.

“Forgive me, I suppose your knowledge of Russian must not be enough that you were clued in to what is going on.” He started again while removing his hat, and Tretij looked back from the corner of his lens. He had a feeling that even with his eyes mostly hidden, the other could tell when he had the boy’s attention. “I am Skull Face. You and the Colonel will be coming with me to Afghanistan, to work as part of the XOF. I think you’ll find it preferable to Moscow; you will have freedom to do as you like, within reason. You can use whatever language you’re comfortable with, even return to your old name or pick a new one if you prefer.”

Tretij looked at him, head cocked slightly and trying to figure out this offer. This man, Skull Face… the way he spoke, Tretij had no doubt he knew far more about him than the reverse. Although the lab went up in flames, someone like him probably had no issue finding copies of records that would have burned along with the rest. Even so, Tretij had no desire to go back to who he was before; that part of him was gone now, and he could likely never return to Czechoslovakia or his old name. As far as the world cared, he was a Russian-adopted freak with a lunatic jacket and a gas mask. Jarek no longer suited him, and he shook his head.

“No?” Skull Face was resting his elbows on his knees now, looking him over carefully. Tretij leaned away, tried to focus on the metal of the helicopter at his back. “For me, the choice to change who I was, was not mine to make; I sense that for you, it is much the same story. We aren’t the people we once were, after all, so taking a separate name is only part of that.” Although his voice was still low and calm, Tretij could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing, sensing some small amount of rising fervor. 

“But do you have no sense of kinship to your other self, I wonder? Do you not feel like your identity was taken from you and tossed aside for a name you don’t even understand? How peaceful it must be, to not care.” Skull Face’s words were the kind meant to start a fight, relaxing back into his seat while Tretij returned his gaze to his lap, hidden hands forming fists. There was a condescending tone there that chafed at him, but he would still not say a word in response. There wasn’t anything to be gained from it.

After all, Tretij’s identity had never been important to him, really. He was only ever what he was told to be, could only get the courage to break away when inspired by someone else. It was hardly peaceful, but he had left so much behind and he couldn’t go back to it now. Wasn’t it better to focus on the future? What was there to be gained from wanting something he couldn’t take back? He was Tretij Rebenok now, a boy who had coldly accepted the inevitability of his power leading to the deaths of others, no longer an idealistic child who looked at the stars and cried when he felt lonely. 

Skull Face was still watching, grinning hideously, as if sensing his inner turmoil. “On this path of yours, are you still just following, or are you making your own way? I look forward to finding out which it is, Tretij Rebenok.” He said, and Tretij was starting to wonder too, looking out the window at the gleaming sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was always curious why Mantis' straitjacket said "Leningrad" on it when he was being held in Moscow at the time. This makes as much sense as anything else. 
> 
> Lots and lots of exposition, but finally up to the events of TPP. I still have no idea how Volgin's horse works; I assume it's some sort of psychic manifestation, especially considering the state it's in. With Skull Face, Slovak and Czech are mutually intelligible for the most part, and Hungary is in the neighborhood so I figure it would make sense that he would have added it to his repertoire of languages. 
> 
> Mantis is not the best with German and thinks Volgin is calling Snake a snake, rather than that being his name. He'll get corrected.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally intended to keep all of the scenes with Skull Face to one chapter, but then I ended up with a monster that was much easier on the eyes when split up. So hey, two chapters for the price of one! 
> 
> I rather disliked writing Skull Face when I started this, but I think I'll kind of miss that theatrical asshole now. Oh well.

Traveling with Skull Face was hardly better than walking; close quarters and long periods of sitting made Tretij want to leave the series of helicopters and convoys entirely, just walk and be alone for a while. Skull Face himself didn’t pay much mind to either of them after their exchange, busying himself with paperwork before breaking off from them entirely at another checkpoint. It was a relief to not have to be so close to him anymore, feeling warm sunshine on his hair as he and Volgin were made to sit in the back of a truck heading further into the desert.

The landscape was dusty, mostly empty spaces of sand with not nearly enough trees or grass to make it seem hospitable. Thick rock and brick buildings, most of which had seen better days, seemed to spring up and flank them whichever road they went on. Volgin was statuesque, and the soldiers accompanying them both didn’t seem up to doing anything except keeping lookout for something, although Tretij could feel that there wasn’t anything he could consider concerning out for miles. It was a rather lonely place, in that regard. At least the weather was pleasant, not yet burning with the heat of late spring, the breeze from the drive enough to weigh out the way the sun leaned on them.

The final stop wasn’t much more than a step up from all the things they passed outside the wall of rock, a strange amalgamation of metal and half-ruined buildings, colorful mosaics broken and dulled from weathering lining a few walls in sight. There were far more people inside than out, combat ready in their dark armor and guns drawn; their eyes passed over the car with mild interest before turning away again. Looking into their minds was useless, a dull drone of Russian and hardly any emotion worth digging into. 

Inside the maze of buildings they stopped at one that was in better shape than most, hidden away toward the back in the shade. The soldiers were speaking, unintelligible, Volgin finally stirring in the back of Tretij’s mind enough to mention that they were being directed into the building. Tretij looked back briefly, Volgin stirring to life again and leading the way. The discomfort of the soldiers at their two passengers, one floating behind the other, whose face was featureless and full of shrapnel, was very clear. 

Inside was clean, if dusty, the smell of antiseptic and blood along with the quiet groans of people filtering in from hidden rooms. Tretij didn’t let his feet touch the cracked tile, immediately disliking this place and wary of whatever was waiting as he and Volgin were pushed further into the makeshift hospital. Outside of a few rooms as they moved past, most of the patients were tucked away behind curtains stained dark and unsettling. 

Tretij swallowed, felt the chafe of his mask around his face from dried sweat. Not knowing what anyone was saying made his growing panic worse, his worry feeding into a rising heat from Volgin. While the man wasn’t quite sparking yet, the soldiers were yelling something at them now, their minds grating when Tretij tried to understand them. This place wasn’t feeling safe at all; he needed to get out before it turned into Moscow all over again, with needles and locked rooms. 

He vanished back into the heat of the sun, feet momentarily scraping over the rough outcropping of rock before Tretij regained sense of his surroundings; far above the hospital he could see over the base well, picking a half-broken walkway in the stone to hide away in. It was close enough that he could feel the soldiers frantically searching, Volgin tugging at his mind before falling quiet again. 

If Skull Face had said Tretij was free to do as he wished, then this is what he wanted. No more needles or people prodding at him like a science experiment. And with the pathway broken, nobody could come up and see him sitting there, providing perfect cover in the shade with the boy’s back to a column of brick. Volgin might have been incapacitated and in their hands, but Tretij figured he would be able to move around the base more freely without having to worry about him, look for better shelter and food and water-

 _‘Tretij Rebenok,’_ Rang clear as a bell in his mind, a hard pull like someone had physically grabbed him. _‘Come here.’_ There was annoyance, but harder to ignore was the sheer force of it, Tretij floating up and teleporting toward the call before his brain fully caught up with his actions. His eyes had to adjust to the dark upon arrival, the loud sounds of clanging metal and constant movement telling of some sort of workshop. Skull Face stood on the scaffolding a short distance away, watching. 

“Good to know that you come when called.” The man said by way of greeting, Tretij not missing the way he was made to sound like a dog. “I’m not in the business of babysitting disobedient children, Tretij Rebenok. So why is it that you have only just arrived, and are already making trouble?” He cut right to the point, turning over a radio in his hands briefly before putting it aside. Even though his outward appearance was calm, Tretij could feel the mild irritation bubbling below, choosing to keep his distance.

 _‘…I didn’t know what they wanted.’_ He finally decided to speak up, mind to mind, soft and nonconfrontational. Skull Face seemed the type to go from calculating to angry very quickly, despite his exterior. Every meeting with him was going to be like this, Tretij thought: testing the waters with the unpredictable. Hopefully he wouldn’t be expected to stay around too much.

“Nothing more than a physical checkup, I assure you.” Skull Face paced to the side, hands tapping the railing. “Can’t have you dying of something completely preventable, and you already seem a little worse for wear. You don’t have to worry about waking up with more tattoos, here.” His tone was nearly teasing that time, descending the platform and motioning for the boy to follow. While Tretij didn’t appreciate his worries mocked, he held his tongue, following alongside as Skull Face walked through the hangar. 

It was far larger inside than Tretij had originally noticed, the wide road leading them toward a platform with a hulking machine on it at the back. It was partially shrouded with people working on it from all angles, sparks flying and yelling erupting on occasion, all of it echoing into each other. Skull Face paused several meters from it, Tretij looking up and up into the metallic creature’s face. Or what he assumed was its face.

“I’ll grant you a reprieve from the doctor, for the moment. Instead, I have something to show you.” Skull Face pulled his attention back, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of construction. “This… is Sahelanthropus. A weapon of ours that has been in development for some time, though it remains unfinished due to a few complications.” He frowned, Tretij catching a flash of something in his mind before the image was snuffed out. 

“It isn’t operational yet, and that is where you come in. With a power like yours, controlling Sahelanthropus remotely should be within the realm of possibility.” He explained, Tretij letting his feet settle on the floor before looking back at the machine. It was rather ungainly at a second glance, and so large that Tretij wasn’t sure he could get a single part of it to move, much less the whole beast in tandem. 

“Don’t worry,” Skull Face must have sensed the trepidation through the small link Tretij allowed, stepping closer. The psychic could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, distrustful. “We’ll have a few test runs before I expect any actual fieldwork out of you. Until then, I expect you to stay out from underfoot, and do as you are told.” There didn’t have to be any threat added, Tretij shivering and lifting away, wanting more distance. Anything within arm’s length was too much. 

“Go back to the medical team and let them examine you, and then you’re free to go. You’ll be called when you’re needed.” Skull Face dismissed, walking close enough that Tretij was forced to float quickly out of his way, watching his purposeful strides as he went to convene with a few soldiers who had hung back at the entrance. As much as Skull Face seemed to need Tretij on the surface for whatever plan he had brewing, he also did a lot of posturing that indicated otherwise. Tretij was torn between wanting a closer look into his mind to unearth his true thoughts, and wanting to keep far and away from it.

For now he turned back to the machine - Sahelanthropus - feeling it out with his mind. It was an empty vessel, wires and gears and no brain to hijack for Skull Face’s purposes. It would make it easier to fill it with his own presence, this way. It wouldn’t feel like a human, that was for sure, the way it was squatting low to the ground on two legs, a mark like a skull on the front gleaming back under green lights. More importantly, he wondered what sort of missions Skull Face had in mind to bring such a behemoth along. Likely the kind that would leave nothing behind after this stomped through.

Vanishing from the sight of a few curious onlookers, Tretij decided he would take a look around before reporting back to medical. Skull Face hadn’t commanded him to go immediately after all, and getting to know this place in the daylight would make it easier from him to find anything he needed later. There was no need to be in a hurry when he was likely to be staying here for a good, long while.

* * *

While the doctor might not have been his worst experience, vaccines and mandatory IV for dehydration aside, Tretij was much happier to be out from under their thumb. Volgin, still as ever, became the subject of inquisition and seemed to have no issues staying in the hospital for the moment, doctors coming by to look him over from time to time. Tretij couldn’t fathom why Volgin would want to stay here, but didn’t bother to ask, either, all too happy to have the focus off of him. 

The hospital remained a home base of sorts, Tretij occasionally taking refuge in Volgin’s room during the less busy hours when he wanted to rest. The colonel didn’t have any reaction to this, his mind once again a haze of sleep for most of the day. Food and water were also easier to come by there, less difficult than having to scavenge it from around the other buildings where strangers were always moving in and out on some unknown schedule. Skull Face made no comment about accommodations for him in the end, possibly aware of Tretij’s habits and deciding them fine. It wasn’t like he could expect Tretij to room with the other soldiers.

Skull Face only became more enigmatic as time wore on, keeping odd hours and rarely seeming to rest. Occasionally Tretij would shadow him when the man reappeared on base, though his job was painfully tedious and full of talking and paperwork and nothing to take Tretij’s mind off the endless days of doing nothing. He was certain Skull Face was entirely aware of his presence, whether he let on that he knew or not.

The times Tretij was called to practice on the machine Sahelanthropus were as unpredictable as Skull Face himself, Tretij torn from eating or sleeping as well as from boredom in the following few weeks. The hangar was typically closed upon his arrival, only a few soldiers accompanying the scarred man as Tretij learned how to control their metal creation. Their vigilance made him uneasy, as did the way their fingers never left the triggers of their guns.

It wasn’t enough to move it, Skull Face digging into his mind and forcing him to extend his consciousness into the machine itself; like a second body, but blind and irritatingly heavy to use. With Sahelanthropus there was no pain, no ache of metallic tendons or discomfort as the monster unsteadily gained its footing with a screeching clash of iron. It took time to separate his own body from the machine, not mash them together into one entity as Tretij was so used to doing with those who entered his mind. It was meant to be a tool, an extension - it wasn’t him.

The ease of use increased further when Skull Face directed him to look deeper, uncovered how to use the guns and mines and transform into something more humanlike; from crawling to standing, bulky and defensive to fast and dangerous. While the training sessions were typically short, the most recent one lasted far longer, checking dexterity and Tretij’s control. It was easier to keep his physical body separate from the machine, hard to use one while protecting the other. 

Skull Face still pushed against his head when the results were less than satisfactory, the burn of his forcefulness leaving Tretij with a headache when he released his grip after the correct action was taken. Although Skull Face could overwhelm his mind and force him to act, he rarely did so. As much as he wanted control of Sahelanthropus, the task of piloting it was, in his eyes, menial; dictating it instead, as he did most things, was more his style.

“You’ve done well, so far.” The man in question piped up, drawing Tretij’s attention. Sahelanthropus began to power down as the boy withdrew his mind from it completely, the creature sagging like a puppet without strings. “Sahelanthropus needs to be moved to our other base now that its outer hull is complete, and you will pilot it there. Consider it a test of your endurance.” Purposefully slim on the details as per usual, Skull Face readjusted his hat and turned away to speak to someone else. 

Tretij came to rest on the floor, a heavy breath sighing out from his filters. As it was now, controlling the machine wasn’t terribly exhausting, but he had a feeling Skull Face intended to push him until he reached his limit. A weapon not tested in every aspect could backfire, after all. And as much as he would have preferred to rest before striking out, Skull Face returned his attentions to the boy only a few minutes later, Tretij picking himself up and preparing. 

Sahelanthropus reactivated with a crackling hum as Tretij put himself back into it, waiting further instruction while Skull Face left with his convoy. He would be delivering his instructions mind to mind then, Tretij tensing as he waited for Skull Face to once again sink those claws into his head. Maybe the commander wouldn’t be too unbearable.

Behind Sahelanthropus, large doors in the rock began to slide open, revealing a much easier passage down the rock walls than through the crowded camp. There was no direct instruction at first, Tretij watching as one of the XOF helicopters came into view a moment later, hovering and waiting a good distance away. Skull Face was on board for certain; Tretij could feel him even from where he waited, the actual command coming in short order. 

Floating down into the valley would have been simple; with Sahelanthropus, it was an awkward climb, Tretij attempting to balance the robot as its strange feet found it harder to maintain grip against uneven rock than smooth metal. It wobbled precariously, eventually pushing off and landing with a jarring noise and rising dust cloud down below. Still Tretij felt little from it, floating beyond the robot’s shoulder as it followed the helicopter, faster than anticipated and growing more steady by the step. 

In a place like this the walk seemed endless, mechanically propelling forward without deep thought. Tretij nearly collided with the back of the metal beast in surprise as Skull Force ordered him to pause, Sahelanthropus kicking up massive clouds of sand about its feet as it ground to a halt. The helicopter hovered some distance away as well, Tretij shading himself in the shadow of Sahelanthropus’ head as he waited for Skull Face to figure out what was happening, their shallow mental link giving him nothing.

 _‘There’s been a slight change of plans,’_ Skull Face’s voice hissed into Tretij’s head. _‘A quick detour, to remove a particularly resilient thorn from our side. Come along.’_ Both Tretij and Sahelanthropus watched in synch as the helicopter changed direction, headed after it. The sun was slowly making its way toward the horizon and the temperature began dropping gradually. 

_'Do you remember Cyprus?'_ Skull Face asked after awhile, Tretij not committing to an answer right away. Of course he remembered Cyprus, all the insanity of that night he and Volgin had attacked the hospital with what turned out to be Skull Face doing the same. Some things might have been a little hazy, but overall it wasn't that long ago nor something easy to forget.

 _'The man you and Volgin were after is who we are going to go see. What do you know about him?'_ The man spoke like he expected Tretij would have some knowledge he would not, though the boy felt he knew the bare minimum of anything the people around him were all wrapped up in. He remembered the Snake as he saw him in the hospital, barely able to defend himself in that hallway, crawling on the ground.

 _'Volgin called him the Naked Snake,'_ Tretij returned, the image in his mind that Volgin had given him back then of a younger man in a bandanna and eyepatch not quite matching what he had seen in person. _'They don't like each other. The Snake did something to Volgin, and now he wants to kill him.'_ A very abbreviated version, but honest. Skull Face thrummed quietly over their connection, taking it in.

 _'The events Volgin remembers are even older than you. He was last awake almost twenty years ago, so it's no surprise the information he's given you is just as outdated.'_ Skull Face was pushing ahead his own memories of an older man, more like what Tretij had seen himself though without the numerous scars and horn. _'Naked Snake is an old codename he no longer goes by. More often than not he is called by the title Big Boss, although some still call him Snake.'_ A quiet amusement was apparent. _'He certainly has similarities to the animal he shares his name with. Calling him by it as if it were a title isn't necessary.'_

Tretij felt a small flare of embarrassment for having made that mix up, said nothing and let their connection go quiet instead. This information wasn't exactly incredible news, and he hadn't told Skull Face anything the man didn't already know. He had probably only done it to catch the boy up so he wouldn't be confused later by different names and faces. Tretij refocused on Sahelanthropus and was thankful for having the rhythmic walking to focus on.

Another shabby outpost cropped up in the canyons ahead, modern structures standing amidst the ruins in the rock face. It was getting harder to see it as the valley darkened before anything else, fortunately called to another halt before they came in any closer. Tretij pressed his feet to the still-warm hull of the robot, waiting, watching for something to appear in the dark. 

He didn’t have to wait long for his relaxed mind to begin picking up a familiar person, not quite able to identify it before being distracted by the thick mist that was starting to roll in, immediately obscuring all it touched as it built up higher and higher into a wall of blue-gray within minutes. At the head of Sahelanthropus, Tretij hovered above it, mild panic answered by Skull Face in time.

 _‘There’s nothing to be so concerned about,’_ he started, Tretij hearing the thrum of the helicopter but keeping his eyes down. _‘I can tell you felt him there, even if only for a moment.’_ The sound of the helicopter door sliding open, a heavy metallic thump, drew Tretij to look up to see Skull Face, watching him from the open door while his coat whipped about in the wind. 

_‘It would be rude to keep him waiting for an explanation, Tretij Rebenok. Help me down, won’t you?’_ Skull Face was expectant, Tretij taking a moment to understand his request. While his dexterity with Sahelanthropus’ hands were not particularly worse than his own, balancing a human on it felt like a task that could very easily go wrong. 

Yet Skull Face was not one to rescind a decision without good evidence to the contrary, his mind shoving itself against Tretij’s until the boy hissed low in his mask. Slowly, he lifted Sahelanthropus’ hand until it was above the fog, mist curling off between metallic fingers as Tretij gently guided it to the edge of the helicopter. It wasn’t built for being easy to stand on, Skull Face adopting a wide stance to keep from toppling over as he was lowered to the ground. With the robot’s large stature, it required Tretij to crouch to manage it.

 _‘You can still hone in on where he is, can’t you?’_ A question Skull Face knew the answer to, Tretij withdrawing Sahelanthropus’ hand but not yet standing the monster up. This close he could point him out with ease, Snake's thoughts very peculiar and unique in their own way. Volgin would be upset if he wasn’t the one getting revenge, but to Tretij it didn’t matter who killed who here. He merely nodded in the affirmative once he had come close enough to Skull Face that he was able to be seen.

“Good. Capture him.” At his final spoken directive, Tretij was propelled by the command into the dark. He no longer had any idea how close he was to the ruins, mist so thick here that it was disorienting. Instead he could only focus on his destination, moving slowly but mostly waiting for Snake to come closer to his position. An efficient trap.

When the man melted out of the mist into sight, gun drawn only halfway in confusion, Tretij oddly did not feel fear. Perhaps Snake remembered him from Cyprus, helping and hurting in turn, and was curious as to his affiliation now. His mind was calmer than it was back then too, a little more like the man with the bandages all over his face, tugging at Tretij’s own but ultimately not strong enough to dissuade the boy as he had before. 

Tretij was able to float past without worry, position locked and setting his control back to Sahelanthropus. Between himself and Snake, it was easy to see with only his mind, reaching out with the same hand that had helped Skull Face to grab the target. The spike of fear was there this time, the man recoiling from him; the emotion was strong enough to startle Tretij, rebounding it doubled with his own energy and accidentally knocking him out from the hard emotional transference. Nothing permanent, and his dazed mind suggested Snake would likely wake up in only a minute or two.

At Skull Face’s insistence, he rearranged his grip to better talk to his capture, Tretij confused as to why the commander wouldn’t simply demand him to squeeze and kill Big Boss right then and there. It would be easier, but Tretij supposed Skull Face was more about appearances than doing what was easy. Snake was starting to come around now, struggling weakly against the unyielding metal before Tretij brought him closer to Skull Face at his insistence. 

While he couldn’t understand the conversation, Tretij backed away up the limb of Sahelanthropus, knowing a dangerous tone when he heard one. They had only just begun to speak when the sound of gunfire erupted, the boy turning to see the bright flashes through the fog before hiding behind the metal, unable to see the trajectory of any weapons in the dark. Fortunately Skull Face had said his piece, indicating for Tretij to let go and withdraw before walking into the mist and being picked up himself, taken away from the fighting. 

From up high, Sahelanthropus was a non-target to the firefight, able to escape the mist and return Skull Face to his waiting helicopter without issue. There was a particularly odd presence making its way through the mist now, fast and ruthless in intent, honing on the man they had left behind. But there was no time to return his focus there, Tretij’s mind called to listen to Skull Face and resume the walk to base. The commander was agitated after that talk, his irritation grating on Tretij and making him thankful that they would be closing in on the new base soon.

Rather than walk Sahelanthropus into the hangar, a tricky maneuver with all the delicate structures in the way, Skull Face had Tretij to disengage from bipedal mode, returning the robot to its hunched form to be loaded onto a platform and brought in. Although Tretij wasn’t that tired and thought his maneuverability was better than the hunk of metal now sitting motionless, he acquiesced without complaint, staying back out of the way as it was brought in to its new home. Skull Face’s mind eventually faded, busied with something else.

The new hideaway was a far cry from the sprawling cacophony of the old one, fewer people and more empty space. The caverns dwarfed even bipedal Sahelanthropus, although that was all that was here. The helicopters and soldiers filtered out once the excitement was over, headed a ways off to presumably the base camp. It would have been a long distance to walk, or even ride in a car, but following in flight was far faster. Skull Face was going that way as well, and while he had remained tight-lipped to Tretij since their detour, it was better to stick close and observe.

The camp was wide, a mess of buildings and vehicles spread throughout the rocks without any assumed order to it at a glance. Even so, it was far preferable to the other base Tretij had been on, too close together and too many people. Letting his mind get a feel for it, he was quick to determine what areas to steer clear of, people congregating in what was either the mess hall or the dormitories. Although his stomach growled at the thought of food, it was preferable to rest than to try to pilfer anything right away.

He avoided them entirely, orange lenses turning to the emptier buildings to settle in. There was no telling the time but it had been dark for awhile, exhaustion from the long day settling in as Tretij found an unlocked door and crept inside what turned out to be a warehouse. Not as nice as a thin hospital cot, but just barely a step below, rearranging a mess of tarps into a makeshift bed hidden away from anyone who might happen to wander in. Not comfortable, but manageable. 

Tretij had little idea where Skull Face was now, the man’s mind distant and distracted with something else. Maybe Snake had escaped again, although Tretij wouldn’t be surprised by that; Skull Face had him literally within grasp and thought it better to make some obscure point Tretij couldn’t comprehend, rather than end things when he had the upper hand. But he would probably be calling on Tretij again come morning, for something or other. 

As uncomfortable as the tarps were, Tretij still managed to fall asleep in minutes, feeling strangely apprehensive and dreaming of being lost in a cold mist, wandering alone into the dark.

* * *

Tretij was beginning to learn that changes of scenery from one camp to another out here didn’t mean much; despite the new location, nothing was really different except perhaps the myriad of sandstorms that plagued the base since their arrival. With his mask and heavy jacket it let him roam more freely during those times without worry of being hassled, not that there was much to uncover. By far the most interesting part of the camp was Sahelanthropus, which remained situated a good distance away in its hidden hangar.

For now, the goal was to remain “out from underfoot,” as Skull Face had said. To Tretij, that mostly meant staying out sight of anyone to the point his existence was treated like spotting a ghost, stories springing up about missing supplies attributed to him and his cycling nests. Remaining in any one place tended to be risky with how often it was all checked over and rearranged. 

Although there shouldn’t have been much risk to it, if Skull Face had alerted his soldiers to the boy’s presence. Tretij was just another person under this thumb, after all, but he liked his secrecy and didn’t even trust Skull Face, much less the hired muscle working for him. There was something to be said for the comfortable silence achieved away from the turbulence of these people. Though food being in short supply was almost enough to make Tretij miss the hospital where Volgin was likely still being kept, that camp far noisier but easier to deal with when the doctors gave him a wide berth. 

Skull Face’s irritation and disgust at some unseen event skulked into Tretij's sleepy mind after a lost count of days, the details of his annoyance lost on Tretij but not his order: Snake had survived whatever trap he had laid out before, and was coming to abduct one of Skull Face’s engineers. So far his only directive was to keep a lookout for him, the boy perched on an outcropping of rock on one of the cliffs to survey the camp. His mind could see for him, much farther than his eyes.

But keeping his mind expanded to look for one individual was somewhat taxing, having to sift through the noise of unimportant people as he did so. Tretij wasn’t sure how far he could extend it when he was really trying, the way his power reached out different depending on his own energy and thought for it. He could perhaps look much further than their little camp if he wanted, but there was no need. Within the hour he sensed someone at the edge of his radius, a unique imprint of Big Boss realized. 

Skull Face wasted no time, directing Tretij back to Sahelanthropus’ hangar on standby once the information was relayed. If Snake was here, then it would likely only be a short time before he accomplished his goal, Tretij able to sense him moving slowly but unopposed before he vanished to his post. Skull Face was waiting, having just arrived by the way he was storming forward to Sahelanthropus. His mind was just was tumultuous as his movements, commanding the boy to put the robot in bipedal mode and be ready to go. 

There was no doubt from the way Skull Face was demanding that this was the combat he expected of Tretij. The robot lumbered to life off the platform, standing with more grace than Tretij had managed with it previously. He was finally somewhat proficient at controlling it, crouching down at the behest of Skull Face and watching the man climb onto the robot’s outstretched hand. 

There was no time to wonder why he was determined to come along in this manner, his anger digging into Tretij’s mind, set on having his projects annihilate this repeat intruder. The demands were making the boy’s head hurt, breathing heavily as Sahelanthropus left its hangar and paused, Tretij feeling out for where to go. Skull Face literally in his hands made it all so much harder to think, concerned with not accidentally dropping the man while bending to his constant stream of thought at such a close range.

Sahelanthropus leapt, both hands curled loosely about Skull Face like a cage as it sprang far higher than Tretij had planned. Like with Volgin, it seemed Skull Face’s emotions brought about their own challenges to his power, the robot’s legs kicking out to catch itself on a cliff before sprinting forward for speed and jumping again. It closed the distance between both camps in moments, one last leap propelling them up and forward as Tretij mentally calculated how close they would be to Snake.

Very close, as it turned out, nearly hitting one of Skull Face’s helicopters on the landing. The sand and dirt kicked up covered them all in a cloud, but at least he had not accidentally trampled the man they were there to see. Skull Face didn’t even seem shaken up from the ride, Sahelanthropus unfolding its hands as Tretij drifted out of the way. He could see Snake now, the engineer with metal legs thrown over the man’s broad shoulders, sizing them up with a single eye. 

More talking, Skull Face taking his leave but his orders were clear: Snake was not to escape this time. The engineer was of no consequence, though at this proximity he wasn’t likely to survive either. They were taking off before Tretij could get a lock on them, sprinting underneath Sahelanthropus and into the maze of rocks on the other side. Skull Face’s fury was rising, momentarily overriding Tretij’s focus and sending a useless volley of gunfire into the ground. 

The anger flooding in made it difficult to stay concentrated on tracking, blurring Tretij’s thoughts and tearing his attention in different directions. He wasn’t sure how Skull Face was monitoring the fight, but he was too overwhelming to be helpful, trying to overtake his movements instead of let the boy pilot as he had been. Even when Tretij managed to mentally locate his target, he was wasting ammo firing at nothing before physically spotting anyone, slow to move into a different position for a better shot. The emotional interference left his control useless instead of the more tuned movements from his practice tests.

And now the two were escaping, gaining ground faster than Sahelanthropus could follow. With a helicopter moving in, it wouldn’t be long before they well and truly left Tretij’s range, the robot groaning as it stomped through as a last attempt to stop them. The roaring frustration in the back of his head was certainly unhelpful in keeping focus, the surge of energy and anger propelling him faster but not enough to stop them from boarding and taking off. 

Skull Face was livid now, Tretij feeling his heart hammering in his chest; he didn’t want to face the consequences for failure, first combat test or not. Gunfire would be too difficult to do much damage to a much faster and farther target, settling on missiles only to watch them shot down uselessly without getting close. Observing as they climbed higher and higher, the panic well and truly set in, Sahelanthropus crouching in a last ditch effort. 

In the end Tretij still had control of something much bigger and more mobile than a helicopter. Swatting it out of the sky seemed almost crude, but it would be as effective as anything else. Physical body safe on the ground, Tretij forced the tank up, its hand outstretched to crush only to meet the same fate as everything else he had thrown at them in a hail of bullets. Fire consumed Sahelanthropus’ side, falling back to earth and landing in a heap. 

The sight of the explosion made Tretij sick to his stomach, knowing from the immobile heaviness and heat he could feel in his own body that the machine was damaged now beyond use. His mind cut from it entirely, that irritation replaced instead with Skull Face’s snarling. His prey gone, his machine damaged severely to the point of disuse… Skull Face’s typically charismatic demeanor certainly belied the way he was vengeful and cruel under the surface. As bad as it was to see that pointed at someone else, Tretij even less wanted to feel those emotions directed at him.

Floating over the remains of the tank, it didn’t look as awful as Tretij had first imagined it would, though it was still far from passable. Its arm and leg were partially torn open from the explosion, midsection peppered through with bullets that had likely destroyed some crucial functions. The energy emanating from it was incredible, the parts still smoldering and scorched would make for a hard time moving it until it was cooled. Not an easy thing to fix.

He could feel the approach of people now, more noticeably Skull Face, the helicopter supervising the crew coming to move Sahelanthropus from the place it had fallen. It would be an all-night endeavor, collecting the shattered pieces of its armor and moving it back to the hangar for repairs. Hiding away from the commotion, Tretij knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid him forever; the man’s mind was hooked to his own, keeping Tretij rooted and waiting until he was called forward.

Except for the few people standing guard around their commander, the rest of the soldiers were too busy cataloging the damage to notice Tretij’s appearance. The boy could feel himself wilt under Skull Face’s masked gaze, awaiting punishment. To his surprise, the emotional battle began to die down between them; while still clearly upset, for whatever reason Skull Face had decided to distance himself from that for now, considering something before he spoke.

“Tretij Rebenok. I think we have a few things to discuss.” He gestured, the soldiers nodding at the signal and moving off to do something else. Tretij wondered if they had seen this before and knew what was coming, happy to leave before things somehow got worse. Then Skull Face himself began to move, strolling along the road and avoiding the cleanup crew. It was almost leisurely, which did nothing to abate Tretij’s nerves.

“It seems for your first mission, I overestimated your ability.” He began, and Tretij hovered alongside, keeping as much distance as could be reasonable and looking ahead instead of aside. “Sahelanthropus will need extensive repairs, and I have decided you will be moved back to OKB Zero in the meantime. You performed better with Volgin than with Sahelanthropus, so your use of the latter will be dependent on future improvement.” Simple, clear; surely Skull Face could feel through their link that Tretij was nervous, drawing out this talk to his advantage.

“As a psychic, your ability is quite powerful. But I don’t believe you truly understand it.” Skull Face turned his head slightly, and Tretij tried to not ignore the gaze burrowing into his head, demanding his attention and obedience. “You seek out those with strong emotions to protect yourself. As an empath, you're trying to rely on someone else, but are also determined to remain fully separate, causing a disconnect. The more you try, the more you destabilize.” A broken piece of Sahelanthropus’ armor glinted in the sand, testifying to that statement.

Tretij was unstable by his nature, and he knew it was only getting worse with the kinds of people he was associating with now. Without his mask he would be far more easily pulled along by anyone with the will for it, and even with it he felt hardly any safer. He had allowed Volgin to use him, but the colonel could have broken down his mental barriers on his own if he had known how fragile they were, susceptible to that wash of anger. 

Skull Face was beginning to figure that out, testing boundaries and pulling at weak spots in Tretij’s head. While he was better-collected and not so outright brutish, it just meant his brand of manipulation was more subtle. He could speak the truth and let it do all the work for him.

“Without someone to bolster you, you are weaker. Significantly. And yet you try to retain your autonomy, when you know it would be better to let yourself be led by someone stronger. You cannot have it both ways.” Skull Face stopped, dust kicking up around his feet. Tretij tried to ignore the way the cold of the night was seeping into his clothes now, as heavy as the weight of that mental pressure.

“The Man on Fire… even if I hadn’t seen your medical records for myself, it’s clear you’ve been burned. You’re afraid of fire, and I believe you’ve been feeding it back through your connection with Volgin. Your terror, amplifying his anger, was making you both more powerful. Without you, he cannot even move at all. But without him, you would be a pitiful case study up in Leningrad.” Skull Face couldn’t even remain still when he was standing, trying to seem nonchalant about their conversation while picking lint from his cuff. 

Tretij let out a hissing breath through his filters, thinking back to the lab in Moscow and his escape. Skull Face's revelation was not new territory for him; he had long suspected Volgin's fire to be a manifested part of himself from the pain it caused to have it smothered. He had been very afraid back then, and he had let Volgin into his unguarded mind as a last effort. It was hard to say how much he had given up in the moment, but Volgin had latched on, drawing from and feeding into it, sadistic and thriving on the pain and fear of others. Now it was just an expected part of their interactions. Fire was the manifestation of a disturbingly large part of Tretij's psyche as of late, of his fears and uncertainty that had become deeply rooted since the destruction of his village.

“You worked so well with him because you opened yourself up, whether you wanted to at the time or not.” Skull Face broke that train of thought, Tretij’s lenses catching the light as he hazarded a glance. “You will need to learn to do the same with me, or your performance with Sahelanthropus will continue to suffer.” 

Beneath his mask, Tretij was grimacing. He didn’t trust Skull Face enough to want to open his mind and allow him any measure of control. He wouldn't have even done so for Volgin had he the choice. He had proven he could handle Sahelanthropus on his own; the problem was Skull Face’s emotional interference that had disrupted him. Synching more completely was no guarantee that things wouldn’t get worse, a very real possibility of losing his mind to the man looming that way. Skull Face had said he had no use for children, but he did have use for a powerful puppet.

“I can feel your uncertainty at the prospect,” Skull Face stepped closer, Tretij frozen in place, still enough distance to feel safe. Between them masks felt like a useless formality, the way Skull Face knew exactly where to prod like there was nothing there at all. “Have I given you a reason to distrust me? Or are you simply afraid of being burned?” 

Tretij scowled at the phrasing, sleeves wrapping loosely around his middle. He could easily list all the ways Skull Face made him distinctly uncomfortable, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Instead the boy could only think to respond with the first, most honest thought to come to mind: _‘You haven’t given me a reason to trust you yet.’_

The responding chuckle was not quite good-humored. “Haven’t I? Your incompetence has just destroyed an immeasurably important work of mine and created a huge setback, without even accomplishing your goal. You have been safe in my camps, despite your utter lack of cohesion with anyone including myself. Not to mention your small-time thievery of supplies.” When the commander well and truly rounded on Tretij the psychic flinched, feet brushing the ground in his nervousness.

“Yet you’re still standing here, trying to remain a defiant little boy. You can’t begin to comprehend what you have gotten into. I've been very patient with you thus far, Tretij Rebenok, but you don't want to test my kindness.” In that moment Skull Face seemed so much larger and more threatening than Tretij had believed him to be before, punctuating his statement with a gloved hand reaching for Tretij’s mask. The boy dropped his heels to the ground in a panic before vanishing into smoke, too late to hide how unsettled he was. 

His reappearance was only a short distance to the side, out of immediate reach and watching with the tense unease of a cornered animal. The shadows out in the desert made it difficult to tell whether Skull Face was grinning in something like amusement at his intimidation, or if it was just the light on his scars. The forced calm he projected made it harder for Tretij to figure out the truth of his actions or emotions, no matter if he was using his eyes or his head.

“Your transfer back will be in the morning. I’ll inform you of when and where to go.” Skull Face finally resumed talking, hand back at his side. Shutting himself off and away; a relief to Tretij though he still hadn’t relaxed entirely yet himself. “Perhaps given some time, you can come to better understand your position. I will not accept a second failure with Sahelanthropus.” 

As Skull Face returned the way they came, Tretij remained, feeling more secure at the growing distance and burying his feet in the cooling sand. This endeavor had become rather trying, left him feeling spent and wary of ever trusting Skull Face. Going back to OKB Zero wasn’t so much of a blessing as a threat to shape up and perform, his return to Volgin a clear indicator that his usefulness was currently limited. 

There was nothing to be gained from trying to stand alone. They wanted Tretij’s submissiveness, his power but without the person attached. Volgin and his motives of straightforward revenge were easier to believe than Skull Face, who hid himself behind mental barriers but imposed his strength when necessary. Without either, he wouldn’t have the ability to fend for himself, and an unlinked mind was a hazard too easily influenced. Once Sahelanthropus was fixed, there was really only one fate left to him.

The sound of people approaching in a truck drew Tretij’s attention, fleeing before their searchlights could touch him. Up along the cliff face and back to camp, there was nothing to be done but cross those bridges when they appeared. Tretij just hoped that at that time, he would be able to manage it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of a double upload, so start at chapter five if you just hit most recent!

As it turned out, when Skull Face had said Tretij Rebenok would have time to contemplate his position, the man had meant it quite literally. In OKB Zero it seemed like days and weeks passed with nothing new to attend to, Tretij hovering uselessly here and there, unable to understand the chatter of soldiers or the radio. It was an unfortunate predicament when he was made to rely on Volgin for companionship.

When he had grudgingly admitted to the colonel his mistake with managing Sahelanthropus, supplementing his story with memories, the man had been enraged that Skull Face would have let Tretij take revenge in his place, torn between berating the boy for leaving him and impressed at the way weaponry had evolved since the days of the Shagohod. Tretij didn’t ask what a “Shagohod” was, preferring to stop things there before Volgin’s outrage became too infectious on their connection.

From their conversations Volgin appeared to have his own disillusions about Skull Face now, knowing the man didn’t care who killed their mutual enemy so long as it was done eventually. In that way Tretij could sense that Volgin was glad for the initial failure of Sahelanthropus, knowing it meant he would get another chance for his revenge. Tretij could feel him humming with latent energy when Skull Face finally came to the dusty little hospital room, informing them of their impending deployment to Central Africa.

As difficult as adjusting to all the Russian in the previous bases had been, in Africa Tretij was left feeling even more like a fish out of water. The languages were further removed from his realm of understanding, and dry heat was replaced by the occasional rainstorm that created the stifling humidity of the wet season. At least there was more greenery to look at and the occasional wild animal roaming around, though it did little to distract from the way emotions were running high for everyone. 

While Volgin was eager for something to happen, Tretij was happier avoiding conflict and more importantly, Skull Face. Luckily there hadn’t been much happening since their arrival that needed Tretij to hang around nearby, and the scarred man hadn’t cornered him for any more chats. For now things were simply running their course, calm as could be expected in a place like this. From the feel of things, they wouldn’t be staying long anyway.

“I’m sure you and the colonel are becoming curious as to what we’re doing here.” Skull Face had found Tretij rather easily through their mental link, the boy having put forth no effort to hide himself in the cool darkness of one of the tin base houses. A fan was whirring nearby, more or less useless to move the heavy air around them. 

“I’m going to run a small errand, and I would like you both to accompany. It shouldn’t take long.” Skull Face sounded as amicable on the surface as ever, despite the shared knowledge that Tretij was at his beck and call regardless of what the boy wanted. Volgin was in another section of base, but Tretij could feel him stirring at the mention of something to do. Tretij floated up from where he had been sitting on the floor, acknowledging the order and following as a near-silent wraith, the multiple buckles of his jacket clinking in the light breeze.

They didn’t need to go terribly far, nothing like the road trips Tretij had endured previously. After moving Volgin into the truck with their commander they set off through the jungle, mist choking their visibility and clouding Tretij’s mask lenses, to his annoyance. Volgin merely sat, cold and unmoving, until they reached their destination: a large building hidden through a tunnel, the surrounding area overgrown and fallen into disuse.

Unlike most of their expeditions, Skull Face had come alone save for his two newer acquisitions, although this felt like it should warrant more concern for whatever was going to happen. If Skull Face was handling a task himself, Tretij knew that it was going to be something immeasurably ugly. Sure enough, when expanding his mind he could feel the extreme pain of others reaching out to him from the dilapidated house, clamping his mind shut again with a shudder. 

“Come along. And don’t touch anything.” Skull Face said brusquely, checking his gun before leaving his seat. If he had noticed Tretij’s discomfort, he didn’t show it. Volgin brought his own irritation to the connection as he lumbered along at the rear, his body heating up just barely as he pulled from that same thread of uncertainty. Tretij braced his mind and tried to keep his focus taut as they approached the door and found blood, fresh and dry alike, painting the cracked wood and concrete like paint. 

It was far uglier than he imagined on the inside, the smell of body fluids and decay even worse when cooked in the hot African climate. The corridor leading further in was a mess of medical equipment and body bags that had been long broken and abandoned in favor of the hardly better back rooms. While the contents on the white shelves may have been sanitized to a degree, the rest of the ward was anything but, blood-spattered curtains forming a maze to separate each area and the grimy floor one big puddle of unidentifiable disgust. 

Tretij could certainly see why Skull Face had told him to keep to himself, not that he had to be directed. It became far harder when they walked through rows of men on gurneys, some dead and others barely hanging on to life, in various states of illness and agony. Tretij had to hold his head down, try not to look and let their pain infest his mind. He couldn’t understand how Skull Face could go through and feel nothing, a cold and callous anchor in this bloodbath of his making. 

Volgin hardly seemed all that perturbed either, although Tretij wondered how much he could really see or understand of what they had walked into. The man had no issue with pushing aside tables and jostling the people on them to get through, blindly following Skull Face as they entered the farthest rooms. Skull Face was taking stock of his experiments, pleased by the results with the way he hummed approvingly at a few bodies. Tretij curled in on himself where he floated, trying not to gag on the putrid air hissing through his filters.

“Do you know what this is?” Skull Face’s voice reverberated off the concrete walls, unaffected by his handiwork as he gestured at the body of a man whose chest was covered in pustules the color of bruises. Tretij barely looked up, and loathed himself for using this as an opportunity to attach firmly to Skull Face’s psyche and ride on his calm for the moment. His lack of response was answer enough.

“A parasite, attuned to language; practically undetectable in the early stages of infection, but untreatable and highly contagious once advanced. And all that has to be done to mature them is to talk.” Skull Face gestured, nearly laughed when he felt the spike of concern from Tretij. They were standing in the middle of a room of people in various stages of infection, after all. “Your mask keeps you safe, as does the fact you never actually speak. Even if you were infected, I never developed a Czech or Slovak strain.” Skull Face walked on, utterly unconcerned. 

“This is where I tested different strains of the parasite to maturity, you see. Multiple languages are represented here, sans the one I had already perfected. Although now we are left with all my hard work laid bare, having outlived its usefulness to me.” Skull Face pulled back a curtain to another area, shoes squelching through puddles of what could have very well been infected blood. 

“It would be a shame for these parasites to grow out of control, or fall into the wrong hands. I believe it would be most efficient for you both to burn it down.” Skull Face was practically serene, a sharp twist to the way his order made Tretij’s stomach turn. Volgin was almost bored by comparison, finding no joy in slaughtering people too sick and weak to provide any sort of amusement. Between the both of them Tretij thought he might really have to vomit, not that it would be out of place on the floor with everything else.

“Do you find my request reprehensible?” Skull Face’s voice was almost lilting on amused, eyes shadowed by his hat and mask. “Should they instead be made to stay, slowly starving and dying of something incurable? They’re barely alive as is.” The man reached down, pulled a bandage from the throat of a patient with glassy eyes and a diseased chest that barely rose and fell. Beneath was a cord that Skull Face yanked out savagely, the body it came from hardly responding to the abuse.

“The only reason you balk at the idea is because you associate it too closely with yourself.” Skull Face discarded the cord, point made. “You think of your own burns and don’t wish to subject anyone else to your same brand of suffering. But they suffer anyway. What will you do instead? Will you let them die slowly, or suffer a few moments of pain for an eternity of peace?” 

Tretij swallowed thickly, bile rising in his throat. He didn’t like the idea of setting fire to this place and killing all these people, the parallel to his past too poignant for Skull Face not to have noticed. The commander was likely doing this at least partially for his own sick amusement, knowing Tretij’s fears and playing on them; Tretij couldn’t just forget the things he had done, and Skull Face would use that to gradually grind away any facsimile of a heart the boy still had left. As much as he hated it though, he had a point: leaving them to a slow death that might take days, strapped helplessly to these tables, seemed less humane than what he was offering. If only barely.

In the silence of their one-sided scene Skull Face had moved away to check on another person, this one just awake enough to turn their head and recognize him to some small degree. To Tretij’s surprise, he watched Skull Face inspect this one closer than the last, murmuring something the boy didn’t quite catch before the commander removed his gun from his holster and shot the patient clean through the skull. 

It took Tretij off-guard as to why he would bother with it; perhaps the man used to work for Skull Face in some capacity, and ended up here after falling ill. Appearing almost thoughtful and giving the patient a clean death was perhaps the kindest thing Skull Face could manage, given the circumstances. It wasn’t enough to convince Tretij that putting him here to suffer was justified, but it showed that there was some ounce of compassion buried deep.

The commotion of another patient drew Tretij’s attention, even as Skull Face continued to ignore it, removing his hat and bending his knee to the man he had killed. In a place as quiet as this, the gunshot probably startled someone still alive, their groaning and heaving breaths disconcerting to listen to from behind a curtain. Their pain was palpable, Tretij pulled slightly toward the distraction but instead noting a familiar presence on the other side as well. The recognition was so startling that it was like suddenly coming face to face with an actual snake.

Skull Face reacted faster than Tretij did, reading their link and standing in one swift motion, gun drawn and pointed at a gap between the filthy partitions. His mind was pushing against Tretij’s, the sudden swell a sharp headache that pulsed and drew the psychic to heel. Volgin was easier to ignore despite the way he was roaring for his revenge, quieted by Skull Face’s stronger presence. 

Skull Face was speaking, but Tretij couldn’t hear nor understand, his directions having already been given clearly: _‘Burn it all, leave nothing and no one behind.’_ Summoned close to Skull Face, far closer than Tretij would typically allow, he could see Snake half-hidden behind a gurney with a smaller body on it. Volgin was fully fired up now, Skull Face taking his leave and Tretij opening his mind more thoroughly to allow for Volgin to fight to the fullest before vanishing from sight again. 

The Man on Fire came crashing into the room, unseen until the last moment as he barreled into Snake’s side with his hands grappling for the intruder’s throat. Volgin was more than ready for the confrontation, thrilled at the prospect of his retribution in hand, but Tretij was losing his grip on the connection as his opened channel drew forth the mind of the patient who had screamed shortly before. 

Reappearing before them, Tretij looked closely; it was a boy not much older than himself, dark skin covered in sweat and the beginning of the disease breakout evident on his chest. His thoughts were a chaotic haze of pain, both physical and in the form of memories, resigned to death ever since he had been brought to this hopeless place. Tretij wondered if he might have been in this boy’s place had Skull Face grown tired of him, and the thought of it might have choked him had the sudden screeching fear of the stranger not locked him in place, the bed catching fire and slowly engulfing its occupant.

Despite the heat and the overwhelming pain of the link, Tretij couldn’t disengage, fascinated by this stranger and caught in the moment wondering if this was what it would have been like to see himself in the last moments of his village, as parts of his body caught fire and burned. It was a disturbing and sickening idea, closing his eyes and trying to make sense of his own thoughts and disentangle them from the frenzy of multiple connections. 

Watching the boy struggle weakly against his fate despite knowing he would never escape, remembering the pain of his own burns and his caretaker in Moscow who had brought him the mouse; sometimes it might be kinder to kill, than to leave someone or something to a worse fate. And what worse fate could there be, than this? Tretij had barely managed to crawl out of his own despair, and if he survived this fire the boy would be far worse off than he had been. This would be an attempt at mercy.

Killing a human mind to mind was as frighteningly simple as doing the same to a rodent, hardly more than a moment of consideration put into the act before Tretij watched the boy’s heaving ribcage cease moving, flailing limbs falling limp and his head turned aside. Tretij looked away before the body burned any further, not wanting to see the charred flesh or when blood would begin pooling from his face, the decision so quick and final that it was almost like he hadn’t done it at all.

With his head numb and unsteady, it was easier to give in to Volgin, turning and moving toward the man who became frozen when Tretij became distracted. Letting someone stronger lead, as Skull Face had insisted Tretij learn how to do, seemed a good idea at this stage. It was almost a relief to let himself withdraw into his head and allow Volgin to reflect and mold his power as deeply as he desired, the flames around the room growing higher and spreading far too fast to be normal. 

It pulled deeply of Tretij’s psyche, hurt and ached but he found the pain to be grounding. The fire had spread outside, haphazard and meant to act like a barrier to keep the colonel’s prey from getting away. And hunt Big Boss he did, nothing spared from the destruction as Volgin set to chase. With Tretij as his spotter his slow speed didn’t matter as much, using his power source and fire to corral Snake around the wide area and close in. 

No matter his seriousness, Volgin couldn’t seem to snap the jaws shut on this plan of his, helplessly outsped to the point Snake was practically running circles around them. Setting traps and spilling water to slow their progress garnered him enough time to call in backup and eventually escape on a helicopter not unlike the one Tretij had attempted to crush while piloting Sahelanthropus. Volgin sent fireballs after it in frustration, roaring his fury and consuming everything in blazing heat. Tretij kept himself at a distance as the colonel ground himself down to a stopping point, sweat rolling down his skin and head fuzzy from a mixture of dehydration and disassociation.

The heat and smoke took time to choke themselves out, and as Skull Face had wished nothing would stand in this place after it all cleared. Curious as to where the commander had disappeared to now that he was thinking about it, Tretij came back to himself more fully, feeling out that Skull Face had put some distance between himself and the battle. Was finding their way back to the base supposed to be their penance for letting Snake escape again?

The tunnel that they had arrived through collapsed, forcing them to find another way. Tretij locked onto Skull Face like a homing beacon, but with Volgin’s cooling temper bringing up the rear it took much longer to return to the base on foot and with the occasional short-range teleportation than it had to get to Skull Face’s experimental building. By the time they arrived it was already dark, Tretij wanting nothing more than go to sleep and Volgin clinging to his power to lumber back to wherever he had been before their adventure.

Of course it couldn’t be that simple, Skull Face knowing in that falsely composed way he always did that while Volgin had burned everything to ashes, he hadn’t managed to catch the one person he had really been after. Tretij could feel the man getting closer to where he was hovering in the shadow of one of the small storage sheds, blending in to the dark except for his mess of bright hair. The sound of footsteps was noticeable even if he hadn’t been expecting Skull Face, but he was sure that was only because the commander had no reason to hide himself.

“Despite the way things turned out toward the end, I wouldn’t say your mission was a complete failure.” Skull Face started, coming to stop while remaining in the eerie light of a nearby lantern. The declaration was surprising, Tretij watching cautiously. “Between yourself and Volgin, you managed to destroy anything that could have been recoverable; and that only happened as well as it did because you allowed yourself to become a true conduit for the colonel’s rage.” 

Tretij rested the tips of his toes on the dirt, thinking. So Skull Face had stayed close enough to monitor how things were going, had been able to feel when Tretij had dropped his barriers to allow Volgin to use his power fully. Even though it wasn’t enough, Skull Face was more impressed that he had done as instructed; he had taken Skull Face’s advice to let someone else puppeteer his power to heart, though it hadn’t yielded the results he had desired.

“In that, it isn’t your fault that Volgin failed to kill Big Boss. You had given him every ounce of your power to manage it, after all. And as Snake wasn’t expected to be there, I suppose you did your best given the change of plans.” Skull Face seemed genuinely pleased with him, the expression and demeanor not something Tretij was familiar with. “Good work, Tretij Rebenok.”

The sheer unexpected oddity of praise from Skull Face set Tretij to alert, tilting his head and raising back up. Compliments were certainly not something he was used to, and he felt more wary when it was coming from someone who could run as hot and cold as the commander. Still, to be recognized in even a small way was kind of nice, although it was likely only a means to an end to get him to keep his guard down. Today had been confusing enough, seeing these startling bouts of humanity from someone he thought had cast off such things long ago.

“We won’t be staying here for much longer, but keep an eye out for any more unexpected visitors. Or perhaps I should tell you to keep an open mind?” Skull Face said it so easily the wordplay didn’t quite dawn on Tretij until after the man had left, expanding his thoughts outward to determine that he was finally alone. Or as alone as one could be, hiding away in a shed on a busy outpost and unearthing a hidden package of dried food and bottled water that had been stashed under a tarp between crates. 

The meal was dry and rather flavorless, but it was better than going hungry and the opportunity to sit and eat with his mask off unworried was by far the most relaxing part of the day. Not that it was saying much when the rest of it consisted of a literal firefight and disturbing visions of death, the scent of it all still nestled into his clothes. 

It made it hard to truly rest, emptying the last bit of water and discarding the container to the side. Turning the mask over in his hands and looking at the empty orange lenses staring back, Tretij could see the shadow of his own reflection in them, pushed up his sleeves and touched his face briefly. The scars still felt foreign, hardly any sensation left in places along his mouth and jaw on one side. And no nose was something that he didn’t believe he would ever get used to, either.

The mask made a better face than his flesh and blood one did, thumb tracing the ridge of the second filter and down the muzzle before slipping it back on. Tretij’s only hope of staying himself was to keep as many mental barriers in place as he could, which was becoming difficult with the expectations placed on him; but he wondered how much of it was even preventable. 

Was Tretij doomed to become someone like Skull Face over time, scarred inside and out, his psyche absorbing their cruelty or simply changing out of necessity? It was an upsetting thought, remembering the dull and panicked eyes of the boy he had killed only a few hours earlier; he had killed people before, but this was the first time it had happened from his own conscious decision, and Tretij couldn’t even be sure that it was the right one. There was no life for a life, no evil perpetrated that need avenging. Tretij had executed him merely hoping that it was the better course of action, and he would never really know if it was. 

It was the kind of thing that would haunt him, but to people like Volgin or Skull Face who killed so many they couldn’t possibly remember them all, this was only a fact of life. Skull Face may have seemed nearly remorseful over the one man he had ended himself, but Tretij doubted he would carry the memory of their death with him. Not like Tretij would, reliving that afternoon on a loop until he wore himself out enough to sleep. 

He drifted off torn between wondering it was better to hold onto his humanity and remember, or harden his heart and forget. Tretij couldn’t help but think for himself, his eventual death wouldn’t be consequential enough to remember anyway, though he hoped someone might think of him.

* * *

They were back in OKB Zero in a matter of days, the familiarity relieving after being shuttled around so much. Although Skull Face didn’t speak often to Tretij, it was clear things were changing quickly, and his focus returned to Sahelanthropus most of the time. The rapid switches in intent were confusing to listen to as a bystander, Tretij occasionally catching glimpses of Skull Face’s frustration or satisfaction with how things were turning out.

Tretij had once teleported himself into the lab where Sahelanthropus was being rebuilt out of curiosity, not sure how he felt to see the machine nearly back to normal. On the one hand, it would be a chance to try again and redeem his control over it; but on the other, it was still a robot built solely for destruction, and a symbol of him giving up the freedom over his power to someone else. It was a polarizing feeling, and strange to let his mind fill the robot out as a test and know what had changed in it since his last control. He didn’t hang around long, the yelling voices of the workers punctuating his thoughts and chasing him out when they noticed him.

For the past few days he had stayed in Volgin’s specialized hospital room, growing curious as to the multitude of machines they were always hooking the colonel up to when he wasn’t wandering around. It seemed the man couldn’t feel anything at all, didn’t realize when he was being stuck through with needles of various sizes that left Tretij woozy just to watch. That was probably for the best, since Tretij couldn’t imagine anyone with feeling being able to stand such a thing.

Staying in during these procedures was frowned upon by the doctors, but provided a good opportunity for Tretij to practice turning their minds away so that they didn’t even realize he was there. It was a simple redirection, and one he found worked well in a multitude of other situations too. The room was kept cool and started to smell almost sickly sweet the longer they remained, fluid that didn’t look like the kind given to the other soldiers pumped in by people wearing gloves, rather than an IV drip. 

With a language barrier it was impossible to inquire as to what was happening during these treatments, especially curious why unlike other patients in the ward, Volgin lacked any sort of active monitoring of his vitals. Weren’t they concerned, since they were giving him so many things? It was this line of thought that eventually drew Tretij to really take a look at the colonel, notice that something was off: his chest wasn’t actually moving at all, not just a figurative statue but practically a real one. 

When Skull Face said he couldn’t move at all without Tretij, he hadn’t imagined that meant he shut down entirely. Butt Volgin’s mind was still active when Tretij pushed against it. Was his body hardly more than dead meat being animated by his force of will? It was a disgusting revelation, the sweet smell of the chemicals possibly masking the rot. Tretij was almost glad to be called away by Skull Face and get out of that room, reappearing in the growing heat of the early afternoon with the sun beating down on them. People were mobilizing, an energy in the air that felt out of place from the usual runs. Skull Face himself was directing a few of them, only turning to look at the boy after he was finished.

“Tell me, Tretij Rebenok. Can you sense him close by, somewhere in our base? Big Boss.” The way he spoke indicated that Skull Face knew the man were here, somewhere. He just needed more confirmation as to where he was lurking, somehow slithering stealthily through numerous guards without getting caught. Tretij mentally located him with ease, the man having entered the final gate to the base and closing in on their location. He probably wouldn’t be too far from meeting up with them now, setting Tretij on edge.

Yet Skull Face didn’t appear to be so concerned at all, turning away and caught up in something else again, giving orders Tretij didn’t understand to someone else. Was Skull Face really so assured that a man who had escaped from them time after time wouldn’t be a threat now? Perhaps there was a trap in the makings here that Tretij was unaware of. A mental order indicated he was to stay close to the commander for now, keeping watch and possibly disarming any immediate threat if necessary. 

Overhead a helicopter was on approach, kicking up debris and landing with a noisy metal clang onto the heliport. The group of waiting soldiers inside slid open the door as Skull Face moved toward it, preparing to board but stopped as Tretij tracked the intruder right up to them, manifesting and forming a brief barrier on Skull Face’s demand as his bare feet touched the concrete. While Snake had his gun at the ready as he crested the stairs, Tretij felt no immediate danger from standing in front of him like this, no murderous intent or anger obvious from a brief scraping of the man’s mind. 

There was no more to their encounter than that, Skull Face dismissing him and turning around, his soldiers swarming and ready for the confrontation though their commander merely walked through and pushed the muzzles of their guns down. Tretij vanished, out of sight and glad for it, pulse rising nervously for being used like that. Skull Face was doing something different now, descending the stairs away from the helicopter, company following as he talked almost amicably the whole way. 

An unusual turn and not one that the psychic could understand, keeping his distance and watching them make their way via car toward Sahelanthropus’ hangar. Tretij was more confused that there didn’t seem to be active animosity between either party throughout the long ride, something like civility despite the situation being so critical. 

The only time Skull Face’s passenger looked like he might have been tense was when the other man pulled out a silver cylindrical container, showing off the vials inside briefly before putting it away. Tretij couldn’t be sure to the contents, but thought he had caught something about it containing parasites. Maybe the “perfected” strain Skull Face had mentioned before.

No matter the importance of the possible parasites, the man Skull Face called Big Boss retained his cool and didn’t react much or even talk back as they bumped along dirt and gravel roads. Whether he was merely stunned or contemplating his next move was fairly unimportant, forced from the vehicle once it finally reached Sahelanthropus. 

Tretij held back, momentarily distracted by a helicopter overhead before Skull Face was yanking him in another direction, wanting to show off his psychic acquisition and Volgin once again. It was looking like the colonel would finally get his revenge, with Snake trapped by Skull Face and a multitude of soldiers, his chance of escape practically zero. From a brief feel Tretij was pulling Volgin from where the man had been brought along separately, perhaps another convoy or one of the helicopters.

Volgin’s heat was blazing the moment he was teleported, Tretij close behind more as a way to be shielded than anything. Skull Face hadn’t taken away Snake’s weapon, fully expecting to watch him struggle futilely against Volgin in one last showdown, the outsider circling to the side like a dog looking for a weak point and plotting his moves. It was hard to focus on him however, something tugging at Tretij’s conscious like a quiet siren song.

_‘Remember what I told you, Tretij Rebenok.’_ Skull Face was in his head next, distracting and probably looking as smug as his thoughts sounded. _‘There’s no need to hold back. Dig deep, let Volgin take the revenge he deserves.’_ They wanted another show of power, a final blowout that would destroy their adversary and convince everyone they would become unstoppable. It might have been dangerous here in such close confinement to Sahelanthropus and the soldiers, but both Skull Face and Volgin were working at his mental barriers, clawing relentlessly.

Tretij stayed behind, tried to gradually drop his fortitude and not be bothered by the rise in anxiety as Volgin pulled those negative emotions forth and used it to increase his power. The Man on Fire was dangerous from his first step, stalking across the floor in his typical way, practically trilling with all he absorbed. There was so little left to his mind except his hunger for revenge, his body literally heartless and dying around him no consequence to him now; he was ready to finish what he started more than a decade ago, and wanted to leave nothing behind but ash.

His mind more open, Tretij was beginning to feel the consciousness that pulled at him prior so loudly that it was impossible to ignore. They were beckoning to him, crowding out the minds of Skull Face and Volgin alike, an anger so deep-rooted it left him shivering. It made him feel sick, filled up his head so suddenly that it was the only thing left in his mind, an unsettling similarity to how things had gone so long ago on the airplane to Moscow before Tretij had lost control. If anyone was aware of what was happening to him, Tretij couldn’t hear them now.

But this wasn’t so overwhelming as to force its will directly onto the empath, taking root but not control, not spiraling Tretij into an overwhelming fit like the others. Perhaps for the first time, it was a power not immediately seeking to dominate his mind, quietly roiling but waiting patiently for something. Volgin was locked back into motionlessness as Tretij’s mind left him entirely, the boy looking up.

Above the crack in the rock was another helicopter, flying by, the source of this connection. Tretij turned, watching it intently, projecting himself down the line of his new mental link. He was digging into their mind and trying to understand, frustrated by a lack of common tongue as English was returned. They were at least more open to Tretij rummaging in their thoughts, meaningless words but memories opening up a dialogue.

They held so much hatred for that same man, Big Boss, that it seemed to be their lone driving force. It choked their thoughts, memory after memory flooding in: a blond-haired boy looking briefly at his reflection in a cracked and grimy mirror before snarling and turning away; being bested and captured and spirited away from the group he had built up himself after so much hardship and trying to survive alone; the loss of his chosen name for theirs. He had survived without them and didn't want anything to do with adults now that they finally wanted him. It was no wonder his rage and frustration were singing to Tretij so strongly.

Tretij could see him clearly in his mind’s eye now, a boy like him, pushed around by those who lorded their strength over him but not once letting his spirit break. It was admirable, if foolish, the number of times he had been thoroughly trounced by them speaking to his weaknesses. That seemed to be, more than anything else Tretij believed, why their minds came together as if magnetized; this boy needed the power he could provide, and unlike Volgin or Skull Face, he didn’t force himself on Tretij to take it, if he even knew that he could. 

And Tretij could let him do it, could feel himself wanting to give in to that vitriol that was more understandable to him than anyone else’s. He could let him take control of everything like Tretij had once done for the others, let him try where they had failed to eliminate the man with the eye patch and devil horn. Volgin and Skull Face were ultimately of no consequence, their voices only frenzied whispers in the back of his mind. They wouldn't be able to use him ever again, no sacrifice of Tretij's pride or power for an existence scraping by. This was all that mattered to him now, a matching hunger and an infectious call to freedom. If anyone could understand Tretij and make him feel like an equal, it would be this boy.

The psychic burrowed in, tried to make him know what he could do; images of Sahelanthropus, the way it felt to be controlled through him, the heat of his anger redirected and amplified. The boy was a quick study, pushing back over their connection in tentative agreement of this. Without words it was harder, but he would understand soon enough. 

As Tretij turned to the metal behemoth he could feel the lingering fury of Volgin attempting to force its way in, pitiful to overcome the stronger link Tretij had formed. But it was enough to irritate the other, the blond boy snapping back across their connection as Tretij was going to free Sahelanthropus from its platform. Volgin would have to go, and from Tretij’s eyes the boy decided under the bulk of the robot’s stand would do well enough.

He wondered if he should have felt sorrier for Volgin, combined minds forcing the colonel’s steps one by one to the tracks. The man was hardly alive anymore, and would certainly die if Tretij didn’t work to sustain him, nothing left but the death throes of rage and confusion from a man who should have accepted his demise long ago. A moment of pain for an eternity of peace, as Skull Face had said. Volgin's mental noise fell abruptly silent as he walked beneath the turning wheels and ended in an explosion of flames, the new link enormously pleased by this level of control.

Sahelanthropus was next, their combined concentration stepping the robot from its platform, purposefully quashing an unwitting guard underfoot. A hail of bullets from the rest was a split distraction, Tretij pulling a mental barrier around his physical body as the other boy situated himself into Sahelanthropus. As predicted it didn’t take long for him to get used to it, Tretij vanishing back to safety as the boy took his first step alone to kill another firing at them.

But these faceless soldiers were mere distractions, combined focus finding their target hiding behind the truck he had come in on. With this new boy in the helm Sahelanthropus felt more feral, metallic screeching like a furious animal as he kicked the vehicle aside and started the chase. The walking took some getting used to but between the two of them it stayed upright, only stopped by the narrow rock of the valley catching the bulky armor and holding them in place.

Tretij brought his control in gently, surprised the boy allowed him to do so when he was dominating the machine only a moment before. But he didn’t understand it like Tretij did, didn’t feel the robot out like a second skin, though he came to understand it a little better when Tretij showed him how to change it into bipedal mode. The rock was knocked away and the opening was no longer too narrow, the walking more natural now but Big Boss momentarily lost.

Skull Face wasn’t about to lose his machine to a couple of children, attack helicopters and even a tank inbound within moments of their escape. The rapid firing was distracting, knocking them around, deeply irritating the blond boy as he searched the machine for a way to fire back. The guns mounted on the head were useful for keeping them at bay, but when Tretij guided him to the blades that Skull Face had warned him away from for being too dangerous he latched on to it immediately, pulling them free to test. 

They were far more useful for creating the kind of havoc he was looking for, but these were all just hurdles preventing him from finding his true goal. Tretij was able to lock on to Snake as the man made a run for it, Sahelanthropus leaping for him and kicking a disabled tank after only to miss. The machine was crowing again, stomping about uselessly as a giant after an ant, and Tretij caught, briefly, the panic of Skull Face as the man was trapped by the rubble.

Tretij didn’t necessarily feel bad for Skull Face; he was cruel and used him like so many others, had no qualms about killing even children for his goals. But it was almost pitiful watching him realize that all his plans had crumbled around him where only a few hours ago things seemed to be going so well. Had time wore on, Tretij may have even come to grudgingly like and respect Skull Face for taking him in, those previous glimpses of humanity from him indicative that things might not have been all bad. Not that he would ever willingly go back.

But those thoughts of him were just another threat to Tretij’s new mental link, the boy following the psychic’s line of thought and slamming the heel of Sahelanthropus into a downed electrical tower that rammed into Skull Face and set him quiet. As awful as the man had been this new boy was positively ruthless in weeding out competition to his newfound power, looking down through Tretij’s eyes and seeing for himself the man who had brought Tretij so much consternation and conflict over the last few months. 

They both looked away, Tretij no longer wanting to see and the other boy back to his task. The sound of a car starting had Sahelanthropus turning, the machine screaming and running after before the boy realized he couldn’t catch up, pulled back out the blades and set the car careening instead. Its occupant miraculously managed to evade the brunt of it, catching his breath in the open when the smoke cleared. 

What followed was nothing short of vicious, Tretij guiding movements and tracking when necessary though it didn’t manage to stop Snake from planting multiple sneak attacks. Such a large machine was good for tearing through front lines and disseminating chaos, but when it came to singling out one human it was much harder to control effectively. Blasts wracked Sahelanthropus over and over from different directions, and even reforming to its squat state to use the rail gun didn’t help much. 

It was clear as alarms sounded and the machine became more sluggish that Sahelanthropus wasn’t going to hold to this kind of abuse. It was already beginning to fail, systems shutting down or near to it. The boy was becoming sloppy as he grew more frustrated, angry words that meant nothing to Tretij echoing in his head. They would need more teamwork to pull this off, Tretij covering the robot physically as the other boy struggled to keep it in check and fire back.

Even that much ended up futile, Tretij unable to keep his mental barriers up against the powerful onslaughts when he was already drained acting as a conduit. It was like patching only one of many leaks in a sinking boat, shoved back and into the cliff by an explosion that left the wind knocked out of him and allowed Big Boss to aim a final rocket at a downed Sahelanthropus, destroying what was left of their control. 

As it went up in flames Tretij withdrew from it, teeth clenched through the headache swiftly mounting and sure his scarred back would be bruised after being knocked around like a toy. Perhaps his exhaustion came through to his comrade, the other boy smoldering in anger but quiet, maybe dealing with his own mental tiredness now. Sahelanthropus teetered briefly, possibly some remnant of autopilot trying to stabilize before it was actually out and in the dirt for good. Tretij was close enough to feel the wind from its fall, the dirt kicked up covering him until fled back out of direct sight.

The helicopter with the boy was coming close to it now, Snake observing his handiwork with wariness and only turning when called to by someone else. It was enough of a distraction for Tretij to get into the helicopter without being seen, turning away the minds of its occupants except the one he had allied with. It was a cramped space, Tretij needing to fold in on himself, but it would do.

Silently observing, the boy appeared more or less like Tretij had seen from the shared memory, if perhaps a little dirtier and holding a certain arrogance that didn’t translate well from that fleeting image. While he was aware of Tretij tagging along, he was smart enough not to look and draw attention to the boy floating awkwardly behind him and halfway up the helicopter’s sidewall, instead both of them turning to glance at Snake as he got on and situated.

They were only going a short distance by the way the door remained open, circling back to Sahelanthropus’ hangar and stopping where the machine had crushed Skull Face. Or had tried to; Tretij could feel the man still weakly hanging to life, overcome with pain and distraught. The other boy was attempting to reel him back in mentally, away from his previous entanglement, but Tretij vanished. If Snake had unfinished business with him, Tretij was curious to see.

Snake and two others disembarked, the first order of their business when faced when the dying man to grab the container he had flaunted before. From his new position Tretij could see there were only two vials inside, Snake’s voice turned demanding and not needing a translation to know what he was asking. Skull Face’s strangled response was nothing to bother over, Tretij preferring not to get engrossed in his approaching death. Instead he focused on the vials shortly before Snake plucked one from its case and threw it into the fire. 

It quickly overheated and exploded with a quiet tinkle of glass, parasites inside destroyed. Tretij grabbed the second before it hit the ground, none of them noticing that it hadn’t detonated as they were so engrossed in acquiring their revenge. The vial floated sickly green between his covered hands, vanishing before they could take note back into the helicopter and stashing it up his sleeve. The other boy was glancing at him questioningly from the side of his eyes, but otherwise remained silent. 

In truth Tretij didn’t exactly know why he bothered to take it. These parasites of Skull Face’s were terrible things, certainly better deserved to go up in flames than propagate. But in the same vein they were an invaluable trump card too, Tretij certain now that the perfected parasite was English, the one language Skull Face seemed to despise the most. That much power felt strange in his burnt hand, the glass cool and far too fragile for what it housed.

Amber lenses turned down slightly, looking at the other boy who remained oblivious to his musing. Their connection was still there, but they had both fallen silent in the aftermath of their failed battle. It was hard to read him, Tretij unable to gently prod his mind for more without earning a glare of knowing. They were already mentally closer than Tretij had been with anyone else, uncharted territory, but not necessarily bad. They had their similarities, not the least of which that it was nice to be around someone his age. 

It dawned on Tretij that he could very well choose to let the other boy decide what to do with the parasites, if he even knew what they were. Their teamwork had failed to kill Snake, which would set their partnership off on the wrong foot if Tretij didn’t try to correct this. Tretij might have not necessarily liked Snake for the way he ruined Tretij's control and led to the demise of Nikolai and Mikhail, but the empath considered that more his fault than Big Boss'. 

Like with Volgin, killing Snake for the sake of another would just infuriate them; he would have to give the boy the means to do it himself. They were all speaking English, so the parasite could become symptomatic in them before they ever realized they were infected, though it ran the risk of backfiring very easily. It would be a great plan if executed correctly, or a very stupid one if it went awry. Tretij would have to think on it.

It was a long flight back to their base, the ocean water glistening like a blue gem on the other side of the window as the sun eventually began to rise. Despite exhaustion Tretij couldn’t rest, couldn’t stop emitting his power and reveal where he was hiding among them even when most of them appeared to be asleep. Including the blond boy, who had laid his head back against the wall to start but ended up tilting his face into Tretij’s ribs through the shifts on their cramped ride. 

It was the first time in a long time Tretij had merely been close to someone without any purpose behind it, looking down at greasy hair and peering into the senseless calm of his dreams. It was a nice, relaxing diversion, simple nothingness rather than pleasant memories to escape into. He supposed neither of them had very many of those.

On the final approach to base, the struts of it appearing on the edge of the sea like something out of myth, Tretij disengaged from the other boy’s head. He was beginning to come around now, pulling away and rubbing at his cheek where a stitch on Tretij’s jacket had left a reddened indent. Either he was too tired to realize what he had been doing or he didn’t care, blearily looking out the window himself moments before Tretij teleported.

People would be swarming Snake and the others in no time as they got out, giving Tretij an opportunity to find somewhere to hide and sleep off the headache roiling behind his temples. There were so many people packed onto the platform that it took time to find a single room wherein nobody was lurking, a disused office with a desk covered in a layer of dust and the window shades a bit lopsided from someone pulling at them too hard. 

Tretij jammed the lock from the inside, buying himself some time if anyone came around to get in, ripping the cushion from a chair and making it his pillow when he settled under the desk to sleep. Normally he tried to keep things as he found them to prevent suspicion, but this was the one allowance he would give himself. After stashing the vial of parasites behind a wilted potted plant, he was out before he even got comfortable, not waking until the sun had made its way through the sky and was threatening to set.

The headache was mostly gone, luckily, the low light coming through the small window leaving the room cool and dark. Letting his mind expand, he could feel plenty of people still moving around, including the other boy not too far away. More startlingly, he could feel the shape of Sahelanthropus, come back to haunt them; it was enough to make Tretij stuff the vial back into his sleeve and investigate, finding the robot standing alone on a platform. It seemed people were avoiding it, their wariness rightly deserved. Although it didn’t respond to Tretij’s prodding due to damage, it still looked formidable.

There were eyes on him not long after he began floating around Sahelanthropus’ hull, the familiarity of them letting Tretij relax as he turned to meet the gaze. The blond boy was standing quite a distance away on the platform, behind the railing that separated the robot from everyone else. Tretij couldn’t quite understand what he wanted or what he was doing there, though perhaps like him he was surprised to see the machine brought back. 

The boy didn’t waver in that proud way of his, a question forming between their minds although Tretij didn't understand it immediately. It took a shared memory, the one of the boy looking angrily at his reflection to know it had something to do with the self, a repeated word in conjunction that Tretij finally recognized was supposed to be a name.

_'Eli,'_ Tretij parroted it, briefly letting the boy look at himself through his eyes. Eli recoiled at the change and resumed his own control, finding that to be too disorienting. But there was approval for finally knowing what he was getting at, the question he had said before returning and now making more sense. He was asking for a name, Tretij's name. Although he knew now it wasn't much of one, Tretij gave it freely, Eli likewise repeating it and keeping his serious expression as though he wanted to ask something else but was unsure how to go about it.

Tretij rolled the glass in his hand, considered again giving it over. He really wanted something to work out now that he was here, but the parasites were as likely to accidentally harm his new mental link as hurt their enemies. Still, there was little purpose in hanging onto the parasites himself, too much chance they could fall into someone else’s hands who would probably not know what they were. Eli seemed smart, had figured out how to communicate without a common language between them; surely this should be no great hurdle for him.

The sun beating down on his back, Tretij kept his eyes locked on the other boy, teleporting down to meet him. Eli didn’t seem shocked or cautious to see his abilities displayed so brazenly, even as Tretij levitated the vial out into the open as an offering. Between them he tried to send a message of what was within; a memory of bodies on gurneys with blistered chests, Skull Face holding the canister before Snake and opening it to show what was inside, hallways of blood and a cacophony of languages. He even tried to communicate that it was matured by English and hinted it could be used on Snake, though the look he received told him Eli didn't know Czech at all.

He actually wasn’t sure Eli understood anything he had tried to tell him, the boy eyeing the proffered glass before gingerly grasping it and looking it over. There was no obvious pleasure from him for having received it, just a thoughtful consideration for the gift. Tretij hoped he had some idea of what he was doing, or rather that they both did; it would be upsetting to lose Eli to something like this when they had just allied. 

After a pause, Tretij decided to leave the boy to weigh his options with his new weapon, floating up and going to do some exploring. There would be plenty of time to consider their next move now, the fresh sea breeze a welcome respite after all that time in the desert. With it ruffling his hair and sleeves Tretij thought, perhaps, he might come to really like this new place, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the setting sun.


	7. Chapter 7

Eli became an interesting study for Tretij, even though he so rarely understood the other boy. While mentally they never remained far apart, lack of shared language meant there was no real communication between them. Eli made attempts at constructing a rudimentary system of sign language early on, but it ended up more frustrating for both than just mentally showing what they wanted, so it was dropped rather quickly. Without any common ground, speaking was impossible on both ends.

Not that it stopped Eli from talking altogether; the boy tended to chatter despite Tretij’s lack of comprehension, as though maybe if he tried hard enough he could break the barrier with sheer determination. And sometimes, Tretij almost thought he could understand him, or at least left knowing a word or two more in English than he had before they met. Eli had a way of filling up his head and the small places Tretij turned into home, which made things considerably less lonely. He was pretty sure Eli sought him out for much the same reason, too.

“I broke into Miller’s office the other night. I’m sure you remember him.” Eli was talking again as Tretij floated above the floor sleepily, the light of the lantern the other boy had brought into the storage room low and adding to the mood. He had seen Miller first in the helicopter and couldn’t miss him as he frequently walked around the base here, always noticeable by the loud thumping of his cane. Tretij thought he looked very similar to Eli, although he wasn’t sure there was any relation. 

“I thought they might have some information on you there that might help me to… understand you better.” He struggled with how to word it, sitting back on a cardboard box and sinking it a bit with his weight. Tretij continued to watch, not really comprehending. 

“There was a lot about how your power works, and that you were living in Moscow before you were taken away, right?” Eli seemed proud of himself for this development when Tretij tilted his head, lenses glinting in the light. “Moscow? You speak Russian?”

Tretij caught on to the question after a moment, placing a sleeve-covered hand in front of his mask and shaking his head, the closest gesture he could think to explain he didn’t speak it. Eli clicked his tongue at that, crossing his arms and falling quiet. Tretij could feel the wheels in the other’s head turning, knowing that he was thinking back to what he read and searching for some clue he had missed.

“Before Moscow, it said you were taken there from Czechoslovakia-“ Eli started, and Tretij floated more upright, trying to plainly show his intrigue at catching his home country’s name. Eli grinned triumphant. “So then you speak Czech? I don’t know that one, but I can learn it.” As small of a breakthrough as it was, it felt like a leap compared to the usual fumbling of their directionless, one-sided conversations. “I can teach you English, too, once I know Czech. We can help each other.”

Tretij nodded, not knowing what Eli wanted but sure that it was good based solely on his uptick in mood. Although the other boy was often surly and coarse during the day, when he came to visit Tretij at night he was calmer and sometimes almost pleasant, depending on how his day had gone. They didn’t need such a deep understanding now, but with Eli biting at the bit to know more, he must have had some plan in the works beyond Tretij’s prodding.

“So do you ever take that mask off? I don’t think I’ve seen you without it since we met.” Eli asked, his hand in front of his face and then flipping it upward as a show of his words. The other boy squinted behind the orange glass, confused. Eli repeated the motion, thinking in conjunction to provide a clearer picture. Tretij balked immediately at the recognition, shaking his head violently. 

“No? It doesn’t bother you to wear it all the time?” Eli was still talking, but Tretij was tense, not knowing if his words were a prelude to him trying to forcibly remove his mask. In the silence Eli was scrutinizing him, sending his own feelers back across their mental link to know the discomfort he had caused with just that question. 

“I’m not going make you take it off. I was just curious.” He put his hands behind his head and leaned back on a box, body language insisting that he wasn’t going to make a move. Tretij relaxed onto the floor, sleeves pooling around his bare feet.

He found that he deeply wanted to trust Eli; whether that desire was caused by their same age or shared mindset, Tretij didn’t know. It was just so difficult to trust at all, and he was certain it was an issue that extended to the both of them. Every little step forward, like Eli not reaching for his mask, was another point in his favor. He couldn’t begin to communicate how important it was to him to have it on as his main protection from the minds of others. 

At the break in their conversation Tretij was yawning behind his cover, head leaning to the side against a wall of cardboard and eyes growing heavy. He knew Eli wouldn’t spend the night here; he shared a room with some other boys, and if he was missing by morning the soldiers who watched them would come looking for their missing child. It seemed a little uncharacteristic that Eli wouldn't just do as he pleased, the psychic wondering if it was to keep the soldiers from sniffing around their meeting places. 

“I need to get off this base,” Eli was speaking again, staring at the lantern. The soft light made him look otherworldly, powerful. “Not all of the others are on board with the idea. They’re letting the adults brainwash them, but I’ll help them see they’re better off with me.” He huffed, the anger a twitch through Tretij’s mind, keeping him awake. 

“That one weirdo is trying to fix up that… Sahelanthropus?” He paused, the robot standing tall in his mind. Eli was looking at Tretij now, a plan formulating. “He’s been recruiting the others to help, like some sort of rehabilitation program. Even if we don't interfere, it’ll be usable for us again soon enough.” Eli grinned at his own plan, imagining the walking tank with an actual human pilot instead of having to rely on an intermediary. The empath wasn’t offended by that, though he was wary to see Sahelanthropus reactivated.

“I’ll get them all back on my side, and then we’ll take it. Those idiot adults will never see it coming. But first I need a distraction, or a backup. They can’t know what I’m planning.” Eli leaned forward, put his elbows on his knees. “I know you don’t understand this, but I still need you to do some things for me. I need you to keep an eye on the adults and make sure they don’t interfere, and bring me stuff I can use to make weapons.” 

Eli was pushing images at the other, of some of the more nosy grown-ups who might realize what he was up to and stop him; Tretij didn’t need a translation for that. Of course Eli would want them to stay away. His other choices made less sense: scrap metal, nails, sturdy cutlery. What he could make with those was beyond Tretij, but it would be no issue to swipe some whenever he came across it. It would be like a scavenger hunt to keep him busy while Eli was more or less escorted and trapped by the adults all day.

All of these things added up to some sort of plan, and Tretij wondered if or how the parasite vial would fit in. He pushed the memory forward of himself giving it to Eli, hoping it communicated his curiosity. Eli only shrugged, unconcerned with that; Tretij could see the boy had hidden it in his quarters, lifted up a tile on the ceiling and placed it within. It wouldn’t be discovered by anyone easily, but Tretij had kind of hoped Eli would actually use the gift he had swiped for him. Maybe he had an idea for it that he was keeping to himself for now.

“I should get back. I have something I need to do, and you're falling asleep anyway.” Eli said softly, catching on to another yawn from Tretij and turning off the light. The redheaded boy spent most nights in here, warm and safe and out of the immediate notice of anyone who might be wandering around. He had been worried at first that Eli might get caught and punished trying to sneak back to his quarters, but he had proven time and time again that he was proficient at staying unseen. 

The blond listened at the door for a moment, only shadow on shadow as he peeked out before he left, shooting one last look back at Tretij then closing the door and disappearing. Tretij lifted himself up and stretched out across some of the cardboard, closing his eyes and mentally following Eli back to his room. He moved like Big Boss, quiet and cautious despite his nature. An amusing similarity given how much Eli hated his father, but Tretij put it from his mind; he would have plenty to do tomorrow, and he needn’t be exhausted for it.

* * *

When Tretij woke next, he was sweating, stifled in the heat of the storage closet now that the sun had come up and was seeping into the metal on the outside of the building. Vanishing back out into the open air was a great wake-up, breathing deep and ducking down to avoid a two person patrol along the outside of the platform. He could feel that there weren’t too many people out at the moment, preoccupied with different things; even Eli seemed busy when he felt him out.

It was a good time to do some exploring. He had learned from previous outings that the entirety of the base consisted of several different areas, most interconnected by long bridges. Those were far too open to follow along on top, but Tretij could float underneath, hidden with no one any wiser for it. A couple offshoot platforms had no bridges at all and only helicopters went to them; Tretij figured those would be very interesting to look through, not even Eli able to get between those areas so easily.

The place he and Eli spent most of their time must have been the main command center, the majority of soldiers and activities going on there and the size much larger than the rest. A few other platforms were clearly for construction, and Tretij found boxes of scrap metal and building materials there, letting Eli look through his eyes at the findings. 

The other boy must have been in one of those mandated classes he complained about, quickly responding with positive emotion, a sign to take them. Tretij spirited the supplies back to the storage closet he had been in before, knowing Eli could fetch them from there for whatever plans he had.

Even as he moved the boxes, Tretij couldn’t help but feel a small pang of jealousy for the normalcy Eli had; not that living out in the ocean on a military base was very normal at all, but having a regimen, regular meals and a classroom… Tretij wondered what they learned about. 

Eli implied with his boredom that they were not fun or useful things to be subjected to, but the psychic was pretty sure they had very different definitions of fun and interesting. Eli must have felt the shift and was poking into his mind a moment after, Tretij dropping the matter and back to work before Eli could understand why he was upset.

Lunch was taken from a soldier who left the box sitting out on a table as they were called away for a moment, Tretij pilfering it and opening it in private; it was far tastier than what he usually grabbed, not that he got to enjoy it for long. With his mask off to eat he was startled by the loud scream of a stranger’s mind against his own, falling silent before being replaced by the flurry of more, a cacophony of concern and worry jostling his head. It ruined his appetite and he hid the food away for later, having to hope it wouldn’t spoil before he got back to it.

Mask back on his head returned to blessed silence, sans the panic of Eli, who must have felt the surge through him and was worried that Tretij had gotten caught up in whatever was happening. A brief consoling let the other know that he was fine, but left the question of what had just occurred hang between them. Eli was unlikely to get away and learn on his own, so Tretij would have to be his eyes and ears for this.

The commotion was found easily enough, soldiers congregating at the sleeping area; specifically, close to where Eli went each night. They were preoccupied enough with whatever was happening, voices yelling and pulling apart a pile of collapsed steel piping, that Tretij didn’t even have to worry about turning their minds away from his presence. He watched as they got to the bottom, a body evident beneath, a smear of blood seeping across the floor as they pulled a young boy from the wreckage. 

The sight of it made Tretij a little sick to his stomach, a reminder of Christoph forced down as he watched them try to resuscitate. It was very clearly useless, the psychic no longer sensing any presence from the child, and the morose silence of the soldiers spoke volumes of how much they realized their futility. A freak accident, unpredictable; or at least Tretij thought so, the lack of any sort of surprise from Eli as he relayed the sight suspicious. In fact, the boy seemed almost… pleased.

Did he know this would happen? Or did he care so little about the other boys that he didn’t care if one died? It sent through him a disquiet at the thought of their leader playing them like game pieces to be discard as their usefulness ended, no more care to his health and well-being from Eli than had been given to him by Skull Face.

With such a spike of emotion being swayed by the crowd, Tretij left, cutting his connection with Eli down to a whisper so that he could regain his bearings. He couldn’t keep the boy from his head entirely, but he could make it so that he wasn’t as influenced, anxiety welling up as he went back into hiding. 

A long time passed before he was calmed again, curled on his side in the first room he had hidden in upon coming to base. They had never fixed the lock, and it remained far enough away from the other platform and Tretij that he could think about his next move with little interference. Without being able to talk, there wasn’t much of a way to know what the blond boy was planning, and that was worrisome now. It made his burns itch, the thick scarring along his back and leg aching as he stretched them.

Eventually the light began to fade, signaling dusk, and Tretij sat up and looked out the window at the silhouette of Sahelanthropus. Eli was still pulling at the back of his head, but the empath was ignoring it, not sure if he was in much of a state for meeting up with him now. Though that meant the food he had stolen before would be inaccessible, Tretij not wanting to return to their last meeting place in case Eli showed up. Once the sun had well and truly set, he went back out, avoiding the main platform and heading north under the bridge. 

A little poking around the area unveiled its purpose as a medical division, Tretij wrinkling what was left of his nose in distaste the moment he caught a whiff of antiseptic. The evening shift must have been the last full one of the day, the inside bustling with too many people moving from room to room and making it dangerous to linger. Tretij was prepared to leave empty handed when he noticed one doctor, a white coat over her uniform, carrying a tray of food out onto the platform and down a set of stairs, away from sight. 

A metal grid was laid over the top of a pit in the floor there, Tretij looking down and seeing what amounted to a prison-like cage, nobody inside as far as he could tell. The doctor didn’t linger, opening a slot in the cage door and leaving the meal before going, as if this odd ritual was one she did often. Tretij would have to remember it, teleporting himself through the bars and down into the room below, outside of the cage.

He glanced around, the pit small enough that even with limited vision there didn’t appear to be anyone inside. Still, it felt like a trap, approaching the cage bars and looking in, scrutinizing nothing at all. His stomach ached on empty, making up his mind for him. 

Taking a chance and reaching through the bars, he began levitating a slice of melon forward when he felt something close iron-like around his wrist, no time to react before he was jerked forward with enough force to hit his head on the bars and leave him dazed. Both Tretij and the fruit dropped to the floor but he remained held against the bars, his arm kept in place by nothing at all, trying to make sense of what just happened.

A woman materialized, her lack of clothing clearly not detracting from her ability to lay out a trap, able to heft him up single-handedly and look curiously into his mask. Tretij should have known better than the think the food was actually unattended, pulling away weakly and feeling both nauseated and panicked from the hit. It took a moment before he could get his senses about him enough to teleport out of her grip, hitting the wall with his back as he reappeared only a few feet away, sinking down until he hit the ground. 

As Tretij attempted to keep himself from retching, the woman was still regarding him as an oddity from behind the cage bars. Reaching out mentally for a brief look, he could see she wasn’t immediately threatening to him now, somewhere between annoyed and intrigued that a strange floating boy had shown up to steal her dinner. It wasn’t much of a comfort, especially knowing that it meant he wouldn’t get to eat. His stomach eventually stopped churning, instead growling noisily and he covered it with his sleeves, not oblivious to the way the woman was frowning at him now.

He had thought for sure that she would sound some sort of alarm, having left Tretij vulnerable for a few minutes after her attack; instead she crouched to the floor of her cage, pushing the tray toward the bars and going to sit on her bed, enough of a distance that the psychic could see her and know her offer wasn’t another trick. He wasn’t sure why she would give up a meal for him but he was all too happy to take her up on it, moving closer to the cage but far enough that he couldn’t be grabbed, pulling the food through the bars to himself. 

The woman was obviously intrigued by that, Tretij turning his face away when he lifted his mask up enough to fit the food through the gap. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to take it away to a safe place to eat, and as long as she stayed over there, Tretij figured this would be fine. She couldn’t see his face with his head bowed, but with his mask lifted he couldn’t see through the lenses, not knowing she had moved within reach of the bars to observe him until he finished eating and lowered it again, floating back off the floor in surprise.

She wasn’t like anyone else he had seen on this base, or at all in his life, the number of strange and superhuman people he had run into as of late dulling his amazement somewhat at her ability to appear and disappear at will. She was a little like him in that, although he figured it to be closer to a camouflage trick as she didn't simply teleport herself outside of her cage. He was ultimately more impressed that she gave him her food, that sort of nicety not something he ran into often, or really at all. 

The woman made a hand motion at him that caught his eye, pointing at her head then at him. He touched his scalp in a sort of mimicry, wincing at the sore spot where he had been pulled against the cage. With the adrenaline wearing off his arm and wrist were aching as much as his skull. It hurt, but he would live, the injury not the worst he had sustained in his life. He could tell she felt a little bad, but Tretij had been the one to invade her space and had even gotten fed for it; he shook his head, a show of no hard feelings.

The silence grew between them, the woman as few of words as Tretij. He looked into her mind, no language he could understand, memories of her in the wilderness with nothing but her gun, being captured and brought in by Big Boss. And that only made things more interesting, wondering how anyone could capture her, or what she had done that warranted capturing. It seemed as many people had a grudge against Snake as followed him.

Tretij kept searching her mind, the sniper appearing none the wiser of how deep he was looking until a familiar man popped up, Skull Face staring back at him in the haze of a memory. He recoiled, feeling in that moment her own emotions from it: writhing in pain, frightened, subjected to treatments that made her wonder if she would have preferred death. She glared at him as she pressed her palm to her temple and felt her mind released from Tretij’s prying. 

She was clearly aggravated now, Tretij remembering her as one of the people in the helicopter after Skull Face had been killed. No doubt she was happy for that, having gotten her revenge. In an apologetic explanation of sorts, he gave his own memory of Skull Face to her, of the time after he had failed with Sahelanthropus and they stood together out in the desert. His anxiety and fear at his failure sung through the connection and she dropped the irritation and looked at him with something like concern, knowing now that they had both been used. 

The woman tapped the cage bars to get his attention, the metal sound echoing hollowly as he glanced up, sheepish. She pointed at herself, then at him, following a similar wordless pattern of asking for a name as Eli had; Quiet was hers, unusual to be sure, though she seemed to think the same of Tretij Rebenok. She next pointed at his mask, questioning, and Tretij shook his head, not sure why it felt like everyone wanted him to take it off. 

Quiet only shrugged, unbothered by his decision and moving on to her next thought, an image of Big Boss that left him tilting his head, wondering what she meant. She supplemented it with pictures of them deploying to missions, holding up one finger from each hand and bringing them together. Tretij realized she was saying she was affiliated with Big Boss now and wondered if he was as well, though the boy was more concerned that she was supposed to be his ally, but was kept in a cage. 

He hesitated to tell her, not sure of her reaction to say that he wasn’t here for Big Boss at all; her scrutiny only grew, shifting her weight from foot to foot until he gave up a thought of Eli, the boy standing on the platform looking toward him and Sahelanthropus, proud and glowing in the sunset light. Quiet gave him a look, something about Tretij’s confession setting off some contemplation. 

Tretij hadn’t thought about Eli in a while, and now that he had he was beginning to feel a little bad that he had fled from him all day, even if he was still not sure of going back to him and seeking some explanation as to the events of the afternoon. He could feel the blond was still awake out there, maybe even looking for him. 

With Quiet lost in thought now was probably the time to get going, giving her a small wave and waiting long enough to see her raise her hand and return the same before vanishing, trekking back to the main platform. All in all, he found her to be nothing like the way Eli talked about adults and his disdain for them; other than the brief attack, she wasn't so bad.

Eli was indeed hunting for him, creeping along the empty walkway to the storage room when Tretij appeared, making him jump when the psychic materialized in a wisp of black. The emotions coming across their connection ranged from relieved to annoyed, Eli grabbing his sleeves and all but dragging him to the storage room, ignoring the other boy’s wince at having his arm jerked. Tretij allowed it, guilty, though he jumped when the door closed and the lantern went on only to see Eli round on him with an oddly stoic expression.

He had expected anger, wondered if Eli could feel his fears or if his own emotions overwrote them as the other boy didn’t seem to notice the way Tretij flinched and pulled his arms up defensively to his mask when he was backed into a stack of boxes, hovering just off the floor. Eli’s gloved hands came up and Tretij froze, eyes wide and a slow hiss easing from his filters when instead of some imagined punishment, they slid between his defenses and cradled the sides of his head, fingers pressing lightly along his scalp and finding the spot where Quiet had knocked him. 

He evaluated the bump and Tretij’s hands fell down to his sides, feet landing flat on the cold floor and unsure of what to do in this situation. Eli’s intense concentration with a frown and clenched teeth was in sharp focus this close; he was upset, but the sentiment was scattered, not aimed directly at the empath. Tretij buried himself in to those emotions, trying to undo their tangle and finding the underlying hints of concern and confusion, growing surprised someone like Eli would be so worked up over him. 

“I’d ask if you have any bloody idea of how worried I’ve been since you vanished, but I know you wouldn’t respond anyway.” Eli groused, satisfied and stepped back. He wasn’t that much taller than Tretij but in the moment it felt like he was dwarfing him. 

“You panic and disappear, and then the next thing I get from you is the pain of being hit on the head! It nearly knocked us both out! Who did that to you?” He pointed and the question was obvious without translation, Tretij somewhat embarrassed and giving the memory of Quiet holding his wrist from behind the bars, hearing Eli give a snarl. 

Tretij’s next move was to assuage that misplaced anger, pushing at him to show her giving up her food, trying to stress that she had been pleasant aside from that. Eli was scowling, paced the floor and then turned back, pointing at the arm that Quiet had grabbed so roughly. “That hurts too, doesn’t it? Let me see.” Tretij didn’t understand him to start, only raising it gingerly when Eli put his hand beneath the other boy’s elbow, lifting it slightly and pushing the sleeve back.

Tretij had forgotten how bad his hands and arm looked, having gone so long without seeing his skin on the regular that the patchy burns were almost a surprise, the shock amplified by Eli. He tried to pull back, ashamed and face heating up behind his mask, only to have Eli hold him in place. Instead the blond boy touched the outline of the scars with gentleness, thumb brushing over an exceedingly thin and bony wrist. There was a bruise already forming beneath, a sickly ring of purple and yellow. 

Wrist in the palm of his hand, Eli searched through his pockets and brought out a roll of medical tape, bringing it to his mouth and separating the strip with his teeth. He wrapped Tretij’s wrist with the sort of expert quickness that comes from doing it so often that it becomes a second nature, explaining as he went that he was sure Quiet had sprained it. The tape would stabilize it enough to make it less painful until it healed, Eli finishing his work and Tretij holding his hand up to his mask, looking at the neat lines of tape crossing his wrist. He didn’t recognize the sprain, but he knew Eli had done this for his benefit.

“If you need food, you don’t have to go searching for it and nearly get yourself killed, idiot.” Eli sighed, unable to muster the energy to stay angry at someone so ignorant of their situation. Tretij wasn’t really stupid, but living in a dangerous place without a common language was a hazard. Not to mention his inquisitiveness and natural proclivity for seeking out other minds created its own issues. 

“I’ll bring you something to eat when you want, so don’t go taking it from people. You’ll get caught.” Eli warned, and Tretij let his arm rest, sleeve falling back down to the floor. Eli was getting better at providing supplementary pictures to his words, the thought of him and a meal enough to catch his meaning.

“In fact, you shouldn’t be seen by anyone. It’ll only raise questions, and we don’t need the adults coming after us.” Eli took a seat on a box, stretching out his legs and rubbing at his face in exasperation. It was really no great loss to Tretij to stay hidden as he always did, although he did think he might have wanted to see Quiet again. Even if she was dangerous, she was also kind, not that Eli would ever see that.

All the adults, especially by Eli’s mind, were liars and worse, not to be trusted; it really made him wonder what sort of life he led before they met. The hazard of his small adventure all circled back to the start of the day and the boy under the pipes, the image haunting Tretij again. Eli intercepted those thoughts fast, looking over at his ally and figuring from it what had riled the other so much. Tretij couldn’t understand how he could be happy with one of his own dying, Eli looking wholly unconcerned even now. 

“Ralph was a snitch and a liability, of course I’m glad he’s gone. I’m the one who set him up.” There were memories of Ralph speaking with the adults, a vision through Eli’s eyes as he rigged the pipes and waited to spring his trap. “Not that I wanted him gone only because of that. Now that he’s dead the others will see that the adults aren’t so infallible after all. They’re already listening to me again.” 

Eli was far too pleased with himself, not missing the way Tretij drifted away from him, the psychic unnerved by it. It wasn’t even that he was unhappy about Eli killing someone, having killed before himself; it was about Eli killing his own as soon as he could work their death into his own gain. It didn’t make the blond boy trustworthy, it made him no better than Skull Face. Tretij couldn’t understand the reasoning behind it, couldn’t swallow it at all.

“Why are you so upset? It isn’t like you knew him.” Eli huffed, becoming irate when the empath wouldn’t cease fixating on that memory. Not that his irritation fixed anything, Tretij pulling away mentally and sitting atop of stack of boxes out of immediate reach, one leg dangling off the edge and arms wrapped about his middle. His withdrawn body language did enough to speak for him that he was unhappy with Eli’s decision, though the blond boy couldn’t deduce the deeper reason why. 

“What should I have done instead then? Let him turn all the other boys against us? You’re strong, but we need a force of more than two people.” Eli was glaring up at him, determined not to let Tretij see how much he was bothered by the cold shoulder, but the psychic was already quite aware. Eli was still being obtuse as to his end goal, and Tretij huffed a tired breath through his mask. The other boy could preach all he wanted about this grandiose future he imagined, but Tretij doubted he could fathom the point of it even if they spoke the same language.

“Why are you even following me around if you’re going to go against all my decisions? I’m the commander, not you! You should just follow my lead!” Eli was getting wound up, standing and letting some deep-seated anger bubble to the surface. Tretij didn’t know a lot of English, but “commander” was something he had picked up, and not something he appreciated hearing in this context. Hadn’t Eli been treating him like an equal? Or did he still see himself as the leader of his little ragtag group, keeping Tretij in line with kindness and now upset that the boy wasn’t so easy to persuade?

Tretij wasn’t going to blindly agree and follow along if he had any choice in the matter; he could decide for himself what he would and would not agree to. When he turned his head and looked at Eli, very clearly showing his worn patience through their connection, he could sense the other pause. It seemed the small commander still had some reservations about his ally then, rightly nervous around a boy who could move men and machine alike with his head. Yet he still faced him with a set jaw, as though the empath wasn’t acutely aware of every emotion passing through him. 

Tretij blocked himself off, feeling this had gone on long enough and now he was tired of it. Eli was too stubborn and their lack of mutual understanding was only making things worse. Tretij needed to be in his own head, needed time to decide how they were going to get over this hurdle since with Eli here it would only devolve further into a one-sided yelling match. He vanished back into the dark of the night, a rough wind whipping at his jacket and the surprise followed by aggravation of Eli pulsing in the back of his head.

That was fine. Eli could be upset; he was the type who would feel his emotions strongly until they burned him out, at which point he would be a clean slate again. They would need to be fresh to level with one another, Tretij already calming now that he had pushed Eli from the majority of his mind. He would go back to the room with the broken lock, get some sleep and see how things looked in the morning. With any luck by then the storm on the horizon will have moved through.

* * *

The next day came and went with no meeting, as well as the day after and even after that. Then a week had come and gone with nothing to show for Eli’s presence except the occasional meal that showed up in Tretij’s hideaway, the psychic trying not to feel repentant by staying preoccupied with keeping an eye on the base and observing the strife that began to unfold between two of the commanding adults. 

Miller was the one he had seen the most, but the other man with the jingling boots and red scarf he had rarely come across, something about his mind making Tretij feel immediately wary after a glimpse. He didn’t much like either of them, although Miller’s mind had a melancholy bitterness to it that was catching; the sort of person he could grow attached to if not for Eli.

They were fighting about the children, the psychic realized, looking into their heads as the conversation progressed. They argued freely because they thought they were alone, and though Tretij didn’t understand their words, their frustrations with one another were clear enough: the other boys had run off, prompting base members to go drag them back. 

While Miller seemed genuinely distraught at having lost them, the other man appeared more focused on Miller, perhaps blaming him for it. Tretij couldn’t figure out the rest from that, the two eventually parting ways on a sour note. 

Eli still checked in now and again throughout their parting, a mental prodding not meant to catch Tretij’s attention though it always did. He was probably busy with the remaining boys, Tretij wondering if he had told them to run away as some plan of his or if they had merely gotten tired of his bossiness. As much as he was still a little sour himself, he doubted it was the latter; Eli had plenty of charisma when it came to dealing with them. For the most part. 

It was raining out this afternoon, the psychic enjoying the weather from under the overhang of one of the metal structures, a walkway facing the sea and not often patrolled. The water that had collected on his jacket and lenses on the way over had nearly dried, though his hair wasn’t so lucky, dripping still onto his shoulders. Tretij didn’t mind the feel of the rain on his bare feet as much, kicking them out over the edge and letting his mind expand in his relaxed state to know that he was alone. 

Or he would be, for a few more minutes; Eli was learning to master their mental connection and had found him, walking to where he was and probably getting soaked in the process. The thought of him looking more drenched than prideful was a plus to wanting to let him approach instead of leaving, staring straight ahead at the roiling ocean as the metallic echo and squelching of wet boots climbing the platform drew near. It wasn’t until Eli was standing under the overhang that he glanced aside, the blond as wet as he had imagined and looking miserable for it. He was holding out something in his hand, the paper lining the foil waterlogged.

_“Promiň,”_ Eli mumbled, his pronunciation of the foreign word a little strange but still immediately recognizable to Tretij. He turned his head up and focused on the other boy with some regard, Eli watching him with a sort of rueful, tight scowl that didn’t match his body language. “I don’t really know any more than that, I just found a guidebook of Czech phrases in the library... Did I even say it right?” 

He pushed his offering at Tretij until he accepted it, sitting down next to the psychic and shivering off the water. Without a shirt as always, he was finding the weather a little harsher to bear. Both were quiet, Tretij able to feel that Eli was working himself up to something while he twirled his gift slowly above his covered hands.

“It’s chocolate; I thought you might like it.” He explained, Tretij pulling a leg to his chest and resting the muzzle of his mask on his knee, holding the gift in his lap as he kept watching the other boy. Eli clicked his tongue, already getting upset about something or another. “You could eat it now, or… ugh.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, water flying everywhere. 

“Look, I’m trying to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied that I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. Think. Whatever.” He was looking distinctly uncomfortable, glowering and puffed up. Not one to admit he was sorry very often, then. 

“But I’m still in charge, and I'm not sorry about what I did. Ralph needed to go. And if you want to stick together, then you should at least consider my side and know I haven’t a problem getting rid of anyone who is a threat to what we’re doing. We don’t have room to be nice.” He stressed, hands curling into fists. 

Tretij could figure out from his mental state as well as a few words he picked up what the apology was for, the latter part harder to understand but something the empath was coming to terms with himself. Not everybody would be on their side, Eli was right. He had already more or less forgiven Eli for his outburst even before he came stomping up to meet him, knowing the other boy was a hothead and ran his mouth before his brain. It was nice that he had done it at all, even if it still hadn’t addressed Tretij’s main concern. 

That was much harder to explain to the blond, trying to show through images that his time with Skull Face had been one of necessity for survival, pushed into doing things he wasn’t comfortable with. It wasn’t a partnership, but rather a sort of subjugation. His feelings toward his time under Skull Face’s thumb were complicated enough even if he could speak; only using his mind proved a poor substitute.

Eli was looking back with confusion, parsing the information given and trying to determine what Tretij was showing. The psychic let those thoughts go, reconsidered how to best demonstrate his conflict and eventually settled on the chocolate bar. Breaking it neatly in half, he held one part out to Eli and kept the other close, trying to present the idea of equal halves, a partnership. That seemed to do it, Eli plucking the chocolate from the air.

“Equals, that’s what you’re asking, right?” The boy asserted, peeling back the foil a little. “Sure, I suppose we are. I’m not trying to control you, if that’s what you were on about.” He bit into the chocolate, Tretij sensing some apprehension as he watched a drop of water slide down his crinkled nose. “Actually, I still don’t know why you’re following me. It isn’t like you have anything you’re after now, is there?” Eli asked, curious.

Truthfully, Tretij didn’t know what he wanted anymore; he could figure out a way to go back to Czechoslovakia if he really was through with this kind of life, maybe survive staying hidden away and living on the fringe of society given his appearance and orphaned status. 

But when he considered it, it was in no way a better option than staying here and having someone he could relate to, having a purpose other than just surviving. Eli gave him direction, made him feel more human than he had felt since his village had gone up in flames. Even if they didn’t agree all the time, it was enough for him.

Tretij remained quiet, only a sigh through his mask, unable to articulate why he was here at all. Eli didn’t press beyond that, perhaps understanding that there was no going back for either of them. Living like they did changed them, made them unsuited to returning to a home that didn’t exist and pretending it never happened. Tretij wondered if it was different for the other boys who were escaping, curious if they were desperate to find that normalcy. Considering that they were always hauled back, perhaps they were out looking for something else.

“What’re you thinking about them for?” Eli cut in, having noticed his distraction and providing his own thought of the children he shared quarters with. Tretij was reminded of Miller and the other man talking, their argument not exactly clear enough for Eli to understand everything secondhand in memory but enough that he was able to puzzle out that they had been talking about the escapees. Miller had come across as particularly protective of the children, and Eli snorted.

“Those two always think they know what’s best. Like every other adult I suppose.” He explained, somewhere between ornery and smug. “They’ve already questioned me about it; they know I helped them get off base. But they don’t know everything I’ve been planning, and Miller is too soft to do anything to stop me. They're just a distraction.” He leaned forward, arms crossing on the walkway bar. The psychic didn’t quite follow his reasoning, but the other boy pressed on anyway.

“I’ve been watching the progress on Sahelanthropus, and it’ll be ready to house a pilot soon. No adult can use it, but it’s big enough that I could get in. Then you could help me get it off base, and we’d truly be free. Even if it’s just us and a few of the boys from here, we could set up a base of our own. We could destroy anyone who would oppose us, even my father.” Eli was looking practically giddy with vicious excitement, thinking of finally killing the man with the horn who caused him so much grief.

“Anyway, I’m glad you’re with me, and not the adults. They don’t deserve what you can do.” Eli crammed the rest of the chocolate into his mouth, balling up the foil in his fist before throwing it over the edge of the walk toward the ocean. The wind immediately sent it tumbling back, landing somewhere on the platform below and eliciting a yell of surprise. Tretij stiffened in alert before vanishing, shocked that he had gotten so involved in their meeting that he hadn’t been keeping his head open to people nearby. Eli did tend to have that sort of overwhelming effect on him.

Back in the safety of the storage room Tretij could feel out Eli, knowing the boy had escaped a lecture and returned to his own room to dry off. The empath, in contrast, was nearly dry already, laying back on the items he had amassed for a bed and grasping his half of the chocolate bar, feeling out where the foil ended and tearing it back. 

He wasn’t hungry, but he pulled his mask up to eat it anyway, finding the bittersweet taste intriguing. It lingered on his tongue and left him feeling contentedly warm, savoring it and grinning to himself in the dark.

* * *

One by one over the following weeks, the boys returned to base, mostly looking sullen and distant as they were led to their quarters. Tretij didn’t keep count of them, though by his estimate and Eli’s continued questioning he would have guessed that they were getting close to having them all back. 

Things were escalating now, Sahelanthropus ready to accommodate a pilot and the adults getting wise to Eli’s plotting. Though he insisted they still didn’t know everything, they weren’t as foolish as they had been previously, isolating the blond boy to a solitary room away from the others.

The room reminded Tretij uncomfortably of the one he had been kept in at Moscow, although this place was far smaller with an equally tiny window set up close to the ceiling, half the size of the storage room with only a bed and nothing else. They had practically imprisoned him, only allowed Eli out with attendants and never without someone standing guard. Tretij was beginning to wonder at the true scope of all the things Eli had in motion, if they had decided this was the best course of action for dealing with him. 

Knowing Eli wasn’t about to escape with everyone watching, Tretij came to him instead, providing what little company he could offer every night when it was late enough that the patrols eased. Yet today was different, Eli tossing and turning between wakefulness and sleep all evening to the point Tretij didn’t come until the early morning when specifically called. 

The boy was looking haggard from lack of rest, no longer surprised when Tretij materialized in a thin wisp of black mist. He was lounging on the bed as if he wasn’t going a little stir-crazy, sitting up and crossing his legs as Tretij came to rest at the foot of it, perching as he usually did with one leg curled and the other bent slightly aside. The psychic was looking at him expectantly, a small mix of worry for this atypical insomnia.

“They’re bringing the last of them back in tomorrow.” Eli started as though it explained everything, eyes flicking between the transparent amber of Tretij’s lenses and the door. “I could hear them talking about it. They interrogated me again, but I told them I would only talk to my father once he returns. They think they can trick me, I can see it.” His voice was hushed, almost feverish. This kind of confinement and the drawing to fruition of his plans was making Eli emotionally high-strung. Tretij couldn’t soothe it down, the agitation seeping into his head too.

“Once the last one comes back, I want to know. I want you to take Sahelanthropus, and bring it to me. The other boys already know what to do; I managed to get a message out, despite the useless babysitters.” The instructions were a little complicated, Tretij tilting his head as Eli mentally diagrammed his plan, eyes glinting in the light from the window.

More than anything, the empath believed, Eli was hungry for the power that Sahelanthropus gave him. He wanted to be in the cockpit and feel unstoppable. That was something Tretij could understand, coming from someone who had been beaten down by circumstance, though it did make him worry how Eli would use the robot once they got it away from this base. Taking something that large was tantamount to painting a target on their backs.

But Eli would be useless tomorrow if he didn’t sleep at all, running on fumes not exactly a wise course of action for pulling off a coup on this scale. He was anxiously awaiting a start that was still hours away, fiddling with the seashell he always carried and his mind a mess. It was an inconvenience to Tretij as well, since he would be unable to sleep either with so much ambient thought noise. Between their clashing levels of exhaustion, it was an annoyance on both sides.

“You can just leave if you're so tired.” Eli grumbled, the beginning of dark shadows under his eyes belying how much good he would get from rest as well. Tretij tapped on hand against the side of his head before pointing at Eli’s, imagining a knot of sorts; tied together psychically, such strong emotion interfered with his own sleep cycle. If one couldn’t sleep, neither would the other.

“Well I can’t sleep if you’re sitting there staring at me!” Eli threw himself back onto the bed, turning so that his back was more to Tretij than not and pulling the blankets up so only a peek of blond was visible. His fatigued tantrum might have been amusing if it wasn’t causing both of them troubles. Even after lying down his brain was swirling like a storm, Tretij huffing and lifting off the bed, floating over closer so that he could place one sleeve-covered hand on Eli's hair.

He had never tried to do something like this prior, pressing against Eli’s mind to soothe and finding himself shoved back before he could do any more than a brief glance. Tretij only floated in place, unharmed, while Eli looked feral, body coiled to spring like the other would have hurt him. In the ensuing silence Tretij tried again, mimicking the way Eli had held his head when examining the bump Quiet had given him. 

“Just what are you trying to do?” he was growling, Tretij ignoring him in favor of a second attempt now that Eli was sitting still. It would have been easier if he were a little more cooperative, the empath caught up in the stir even as he tried to unravel the anxiety and let him feel the underlying exhaustion. After a few moments he appeared to manage it, Eli withholding a yawn and his eyes growing heavy, knocking away Tretij’s hands and pressing his own to his forehead.

“What did you…” He trailed off, broken up by another yawn as he slumped down. He wasn’t able to fight it now, eyes closed and unconscious in moments. Tretij had to keep him from falling off the bed as sleep overtook him, easing the other boy back under the covers. He looked almost entirely like a different person now, perpetual scowl smoothed out leaving him peaceful. 

It had been, perhaps, a little too strong of a mental suggestion, Tretij cursing himself as Eli's sleep cycle started pulling at him, finding it near impossible to stay awake. He could only hope he didn't accidentally push the blond too far, wondering if he should try to do something. 

Tretij curled in the slight available room between Eli and the edge of the bed, weaving a tired hand through his mind. He was dreaming, the imagery warm and soft like being wrapped in a blanket. The empath wasn't even aware Eli could have such pleasant dreams, finding himself just as lulled by it and sinking into that consciousness like it was his own.

Morning light was shining through his lenses as he slowly came around, aware now that at some point he had passed out on Eli's bed, his head pillowed on his arms wedged between legs and the wall. Coming to was a slow proposition, a low whimper and a creak of bones before Tretij was fully aware that he wasn't the only one up. Eli wasn't watching him all that closely, half-asleep himself, slightly propped up with his face in the pillow and able to see the redhead from where he was laying. 

"I don't know what you did, but don't do it again." His voice rasped lightly, quiet, and Tretij sighed. It was hardly an admonishment, Eli closing his eyes and lingering alongside the other somewhere between asleep and wakefulness until they were both startled by the door shaking with the pounding of a fist. A call for breakfast, probably, and a warning that would be too short before someone was coming in. Tretij teleported before that could happen, the sun not a pleasant way to come around when he felt as tired as he did.

Eli would be monitored for some time, leaving Tretij to find food before going to perch and wait for the last of the boys to get back. There was little to do out hidden in plain sight, keeping the back of his mind open to the ebb and flow of Eli's thoughts as he was dragged about. He was facing the same slow morning at least, finding all the things he was subjected to excrutiating enough before he was groggy. 

The helicopter he had been waiting on finally arrived just before noon, Snake stepping out alongside a boy that Tretij thought was vaguely familiar. If Eli was bored before, now he was very attentive, latching on to the shared vision. The plan was finally in motion, with Eli being carted off to interrogation and Tretij going to Sahelanthropus. 

The machine was a not-unpleasant familiarity, filling it out and noting a low hum of interest in the back of his mind as he powered it on. He could hear distantly a few howls of surprise from those who were seeing it move, Tretij unnoticed as he turned it to hone in on Eli. The soldiers that were around seemed keener on staying out of the way than stopping it, Sahelanthropus landing crouched outside of the warehouse-like building they used for questioning. 

On the other side of the wall his mind was singing to Tretij’s as strongly as the day they had met, buzzing so loudly with anticipation it was hard to concentrate, the desire to fulfill Eli's wish impossible to ignore. Sahelanthropus’ head bashed through the wall as though it were paper, Tretij reappearing within as a shield and mentally cataloging the dangers in the room as Eli regained his bearings in the smoke and steam. 

Snake was by far the most prominent, but also the easiest to distract, Tretij able to project a mental illusion of himself while moving Sahelanthropus’ hand to act as a step for Eli to jump inside the opened cockpit. There was no time for lingering, Tretij taking control of the machine again as soon as the mouth of it closed, pulling it back and away toward the sea as Eli directed him to. The other boys showed up then as well, following in a helicopter as the base got smaller and smaller, only a speck out in the water. 

Although Eli was at the controls, he was more reliant on Tretij to keep it on and moving, directing when needed. It wouldn’t be able to stay out over the water at all if not for the psychic, floating over its shoulder and looking out at endless blue. If Snake was coming after them, they would never catch up at this rate. Tretij wasn’t even sure how far they were going, if there was any sort of final destination in mind.

After the sun had set without land in sight, Tretij was startled from his trance by Sahelanthropus’ cockpit opening, Eli wiping a hand across his brow. The redhead supposed it must have gotten hot in there easily, as it hadn’t meant to hold a human pilot so airflow wasn’t much concern. The helicopter was nothing more than a drone behind them, Tretij coming to rest his feet on the edge of Sahelanthropus’ jaw. There was nothing to be said, Eli eventually looking down at his hand where a familiar vial rested, Tretij’s eyes following.

The glass was intact, the parasites inside not yet used; Tretij wondered why he had bothered to keep them at all if he hadn’t used them against Snake. It must have been part of a bigger plan, then, Eli holding up the vial and looking through it as if weighing his options.

“This will be our insurance that no adult will be able to come near us.” Eli’s voice was quiet, tucking it back into the pocket of his jacket. Tretij wondered if he really understood all the repercussions of using the parasites, or if he was just so determined to create this fantasy of his that he was willing to throw caution to the wind. He would have to watch and see what would happen.

“Are you infected? You’re always wearing that mask.” He piped up again, Tretij waiting for a picture definition before shaking his head, hair falling across his lenses. “I read that gas masks can keep you from catching it, so I wondered… We brought protective clothing, so we should be fine.” Eli kicked back in his seat, running his hands over the controls. Out in the far distance Tretij was sure he could see a light now, very faint but flickering on the horizon.

The crackle of a radio sounded from somewhere in the floor, an unfamiliar language cased in static. Eli fished the receiver from where he had placed it on the floor, a short back-and-forth ensuing before he cut it off, holding it tight in hand. Tretij watched, expectant for some sort of explanation, though none was forthcoming immediately. 

“Are you tired?” He questioned, looking up at the empath. This wasn’t exactly great fun for Tretij, and while he was a little drained, he could press on for longer if need be. His answer was a half-hearted shrug, turning back to watch the slow approach of land. “Good. We’re going to keep going, then.” He flipped the radio back on, something like an order barked across the line before he dropped it into his lap. 

Once they had made it to the shore, the helicopter split off, heading its own direction while Tretij focused on it curiously. Eli implied they would meet up later when he course corrected the psychic’s wandering controls, heading further inland until the ocean disappeared behind them and there was nothing but jungle ahead. 

In the dark everything below them was just a blur, the occasional light of a village popping up then fading away. When an island in an enormous lake finally slid into view, Eli rose up from where he had nearly fallen asleep in his chair, lightly batting Tretij’s knee to catch his attention.

“Set it down there.” He was pointing, the two finding a decent clearing amidst the island that could fit Sahelanthropus without leaving it too exposed. The small valley was flush with water, the robot sloshing it about as it came to find purchase in the rock and mud beneath, crouching down so Eli could get in and out without assistance. There was some light from the dawn now, Tretij staring tiredly at the sky as Eli went to explore. 

Tretij considered following before he thought better of it, much happier to rest after having been awake for so long. He was used to napping his days away on and off, lack of sleep catching up now that he had exerted himself in moving Sahelanthropus. Eli didn't seem to disapprove of his choice, and if he needed help their mental link would wake him. The cockpit made a good place to sleep as any now that it had been vacated, slipping inside and hoping he could get a couple hours of sleep before Eli came back.

The seat wasn’t built for comfort but it provided enough room to curl up on one side, Tretij letting his mind expand though he couldn’t feel out much more than himself and Eli; a few other people were at the other end of the island, but not many. Possibly some permanent establishments they could take for themselves, once they had backup. 

Between the idyllic greenery, the quiet rush of a distant waterfall and the company, it didn’t seem, overall, like a bad place to be spending the foreseeable future.

* * *

The other boys arrived within the next few days, having managed to find their way through the dense jungle bringing along plenty of supplies to get them all set up. Eli and Tretij had long since gotten started in securing the island, preparing traps and creating defenses that the commander of their ragtag group had to explain to the newcomers. Altogether they were only ten people; not much of a force for the kind of reckoning Eli had in mind, but decent enough at fighting not to be messed with by just anyone.

This was also the first time Tretij had been formally introduced to any of them, the boys having never actually seen the psychic in the flesh previously. They kept their distance, wary of his looks and power, not that Tretij blamed them. He spent more of his time alone or with Eli than with any of them, which did little to dispel their caution. When they were all talking there was no way Tretij could join in anyway, always hovering nearby but never truly part of the group. Eli had tried to smooth things over, but it didn’t amount to much in the end.

“They’re scared of you because they don’t understand what you are.” He had explained one evening, after all the others had gone to sleep, either around the campfire or in the huts they had assembled. Eli looked like something caught between man and beast in the dying light of the embers, face streaked with dirt and sweat. “They will, eventually. You’re on our side, so they don’t dislike you.” He coughed into the back of his hand, voice cracking, and Tretij was only more worried and doubted his words.

Eli had spread the parasites throughout the island as his plan of defense from any adults who might try to retake it or Sahelanthropus, having picked this particular locale as the salt lake acted to keep the infection from spreading. It was oddly thoughtful, but Tretij supposed it was better to keep their infection contained lest it grow out of control. The few people who had been there before they kicked them out didn’t exactly put up much of a fight when faced with children toting guns, but there was always a worry that they would come back and possibly bring more or worse alongside. 

The parasites created something of a plague myth, not affecting the children but deadly to any adult who came in unprepared. Eli went so far as to practically breed it, going out of his way to infect the scouts who came to the island looking for a weakness in their armor. Most he didn’t let live to escape, but the one he did was meant to carry a message: Sahelanthropus could be exchanged for the body of Big Boss. So far there were no takers, not that any of them were surprised. Tretij was sure nobody would negotiate with them anyway, even if they weren't kids.

Tretij had thought it immensely foolish plan from the start, had tried to dissuade Eli from thinking the parasites could be used this way even if they all had protective gear. They couldn’t very well infect their home and not expect casualties down the road; not only that, but they wouldn’t stay young forever. 

Eli was proof enough of that now, hiding behind a flight suit and mask that couldn’t save him from aging as he grew taller and his voice deepened. The island was a ticking time bomb for them all, but it would start with Eli.

As the resident psychic, Tretij spent most of his time on lookout. He much prefered it to building traps or hunting as it tended to be something he could do easily sitting in the shade, merely feeling out for anyone he wasn’t familiar with and keeping himself from heat exhaustion. Rarely did a day go by without some form of intrusion by locals or soldier-scouts, though the presence of an unusually large group a startled him from his typical sleepy guard duty. 

They had faced small divisions before, most falling victim to the numerous traps or a well-placed bullet before getting too far into the island; this was not the same, a much more thought-out assault meant to oust them from their position. They would overrun their band with sheer numbers in a sneak attack if allowed, Tretij sounding the mental alarm to Eli. 

On his way back to Sahelanthropus, floating silent beneath the tree canopies to mark enemy positions, Tretij felt the pull of another familiar mind on top of the cacophony of the rest, Eli able to read it from him immediately without being told that Snake had arrived as well. He was further away, likely unaffiliated with the others, but could prove to be a bigger issue. Eli was more excited about his father coming to him, the home field advantage finally theirs. 

To Tretij’s displeasure, this would be the first truly dangerous fight they would face. Doubtless there would be casualties to their side, and little he could do to prevent them in the hectic roar of battle. Eli would need to be protected first as their commander and pilot, at least until Sahelanthropus was activated. He was standing in the cockpit when Tretij showed, looking out as though he might spot Snake from his high perch. 

It was fortunate Tretij was much faster than any of the intruders, feeling the crescendo of emotion from them as they aimed at Eli and able to intercept and form a mental shield before they could do any harm. Eli’s brain was a startled jump against his as the crack of a rifle went off and his ally materialized before him, Tretij stretching his mind to protect them both from a barrage of rockets that rippled uselessly off his barrier. It gave Eli enough time to get to safety inside Sahelanthropus, noticeably smug as the machine burst into life with gunfire that sent the opposition scattering. 

The psychic hung back, letting Eli take control; Sahelanthropus worked best when Eli drew some power from Tretij, the empath feeding off his anger and lust for revenge as he had all that time ago. It was an amplified rattle that seared his brain, lashing out where he couldn’t channel the excess energy through Eli. It should have been a one-sided victory, both of them having learned from their previous fight how to better mesh together and achieve results.

Yet no matter how good they were, Sahelanthropus remained a machine that was subject to breaking when overwhelmed. Eli focused on catching his father and left the shielding to Tretij, the latter only able to do so much. Foot soldiers were dispatched like ants beneath them, the incoming helicopters and backup proving much harder to keep away. The smaller area of the valley also left them without much room to maneuver by comparison, the lack of open space that had kept them safe before now a curse to the battle.

Tretij ended up backed into Sahelanthropus by volley after volley, stretched thin and unable to continue holding up the faltering machine. Eli was still frantically still trying to retain control, unable to do more than blindly stagger and lash out like a cornered animal. When it collapsed it was with more force than either was prepared for, blasts from overloaded and damaged parts shooting out heat and shrapnel that smacked Tretij away in the ensuing explosion. 

It sent him reeling, unable to stay afloat and left tumbling into the dirt and tall grass far and away from where Sahelanthropus had landed. The pain in his back was unbearable, gasping through the mask and wondering if he had been burned again. Curled on his side, all that was visible now was the gentle wave of the stalks and the cloud of smoke from Eli’s last chance at redemption. 

The blond’s head was as panicked and pained as his own, neither able to make sense of the other through the flurry of emotions and confusion. Tretij could tell his breath was coming too fast, arms wrapping around his stomach and feeling sick. He was trying to break the connection back down to a minimum, the shared headspace lending neither of them to a calmer equilibrium. 

Recovery seemed a distant wish as Tretij could sense a surge of panic that rapped at his skull, the outburst worrisome enough that he attempted to move. He had barely managed to get his arms beneath him when a sharp pain throbbed in his chest, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed at his ribs, unable to feel a bullet or blood and his thoughts drowned out by Eli's mental screeching, the combination sending him sliding into unconsciousness. 

There was no telling how long he blacked out, the sound of multiple helicopters nearby a heavy hum in his ears. Nobody had managed to find him, his body aching and pummeled, but still somehow whole. He weakly tugged at the connection between himself and Eli, trying to determine if the other boy was all right; a barrage of hatred and self-loathing filtered in, not surprised to learn that Eli had contracted the parasites and feeling his stomach drop in frightened disappointment. 

The empath popped his head up over the grass, locating Eli with a wobbly sense of determination. Lifting himself like a ragdoll was easier than choosing to physically move his body, teleporting closer in time to see Snake and his men leaving with the broken remains of Sahelanthropus. The whole scene felt wrong, Tretij filled with apprehension as he caught the bright color of Eli’s outfit against the dirt. The beaten commander was standing up, a gun in his hand that rose to press shakily against his temple.

Tretij watched, transfixed for a moment, able to feel the bruise of wounded pride against a backdrop of confliction toward life or death with his finger on the trigger. The redhead was shaking with it, the situation was getting away from him, no time for discussion.

Tretij gripped Eli in his mind, locking him into place. He went stiff with a short exhale, finger pulled slowly off the trigger; despite the discomfort he didn't seem particularly scared at being controlled, despair tempering him as Tretij forced the gun down from his head. He floated around to catch Eli's eyes, the blond's spirit crushed but, perhaps, ultimately not broken yet, that same set to his jaw that Tretij recognized still there.

The decision to kill himself hadn't been made entirely due to wounded pride. Beyond his failures to carve out his own history, he knew he was living on borrowed time. The parasites were on the verge of becoming symptomatic, the memories of the infected Tretij had shown all too real now. Choosing to die by his own hand would have been kinder to both his body and his ego.

But seeing him like this, a strange reflection of one another, Tretij couldn't bear the thought of letting him die. He couldn't go back to being alone, torn apart by the minds of others until he no longer remembered himself. It was selfish to choose for Eli, maybe, but the empath couldn't help but want to believe that if given the chance, the other boy would claw himself back out of this hole. Even if he broke himself in the process, exposed the bone and blood underneath, he could survive. He would only have to be given the chance.

The parasites were not something Tretij had ever wanted to dabble in again, but there was little choice or time to be squeamish about it. Eli watched him like a hawk, still frozen, as the psychic raised his hand to the other's throat and tried his best to feel for something. Even in that disgusting place Skull Face had brought him to, Tretij hadn’t delved deep enough to notice anything changed in the just-symptomatic infected. 

There wasn't much difference between the infected parts and the not, so minuscule that Tretij almost missed it. The parasites were stuck fast, good mimics to the vocal tissue but not quite perfect. Trying to remove them was like doing surgery blind, attempting to delicately peel them off the healthy tissue without ruining it. 

When he gave one last pull, Eli 's eyes widened and he grew abruptly pale as though sick, freed from his hold and gagging as Tretij removed the mass of parasites via his mouth. They pulsated, disgusting and pale with stripes of blood, Eli turning to cough and retch bile from the none-to-gentle procedure as Tretij discarded them.

There started a roar or jets in the distance, Tretij glancing up toward the sky and feeling a small panic from Eli. One last attack on the island then, and one they should get out of the way of very quickly. The only remaining question was if Eli would come with him, Tretij turning to look at the boy who was watching him with a strange sense of wonder. Even if his soldiers and his ultimate weapon were gone, Tretij remained, his outstretched sleeve a symbol of another possible beginning for them both. 

Eli took it without further hesitation, gripping his hand through the thick fabric. Tretij lightly squeezed back, lifting them both from the ground as fire from the jet bombings began to engulf the island. From the air the heat was intense, Tretij pulling the pair from danger before it caught up with them. 

For once, Eli had fallen silent, no indication of where to go as Tretij carried them along, neither looking back at what was past. There was only the horizon and each other, a companionable silence swathed in blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Quiet doesn't need to eat, but I imagine like Code Talker, she would probably enjoy food for the taste and texture from time to time. I think it would be interesting if she and Tretij had gotten to know each other. 
> 
> Some notes about the Kingdom of the Flies: in the cut video it's stated to be "somewhere in Central Africa, an island surrounded by a salt lake." Lake Manyara seems the best fit and is where I based this on, although it doesn't actually have an island in the middle (though it is large enough to support one, in theory), and it's in Tanzania, so not exactly Central Africa. As far as I researched, there doesn't seem to be an existing salt lake/island that meets all their criteria.
> 
> In a similar vein, I have no idea how far exactly Mother Base is into the Seychelles. Some rough mapping indicates that it should be quite a long way to land - far more distance than a standard helicopter could fly without refueling. Mother Base would have to be much closer in to make these trips plausible, but most everything in Metal Gear seems to run on the Rule of Cool anyway so maybe it's just me that notices how weirdly distances are skewed in-game... Ah well.


	8. Chapter 8

“We’ve been going this way for an hour. How much longer do you intend to carry me? I can walk, if you don’t remember.” Eli was getting grouchy, the emotional shock of earlier finally starting to wear off enough to the point that he was coming back to himself. Tretij could tell he was overall annoyed with everything happening, an underlying fear at not knowing what would come next for him buried beneath. He rather hoped Eli wouldn’t stay that way for long, the mood chafing.

The psychic started their descent, Eli letting go as soon as he was close to the ground. He stumbled as his body jolted with aches, falling into the dirt and catching his breath before standing back up, hardly steadier than he had been. Tretij followed behind, watching this show of pride and knowing how difficult it was for the other boy to manage this. Both of them were hurting, the only immediate considerations to finding food and shelter.

An abandoned lodge hidden in an overgrown path was a lucky find, shaded by trees with a leaky roof and couple broken-out windows being the only notable downsides on sight. The cabinets were bare save for a few cans that were questionable at best, Eli snarling in irritation as he started pulling off the flight suit. Beneath Tretij was able to see the spot where a bullet had hit his armor, shedding it all like an old skin until he was left with only his gloves, shorts and fanged necklace, soaked with sweat and looking less himself without his characteristic green jacket.

“So you’re just going to keep following me then? I don’t need you anymore, you’ll only slow me down.” Eli snapped, his frustrations mounting as the reality of their situation continued to chafe at him. “It isn’t like you helped me so much anyway, did you? It’s your fault we lost! What am I supposed to do now?” Eli looked like a wild animal torn between fighting or fleeing, teeth bared and tensed. The fury directed at Tretij made his head ache, knowing he was being accused and his own ire rising slowly to match. He had saved Eli twice over, wasn’t that worth anything?

There was something to be said of a façade so thick even the person projecting it believed it, Tretij able to peel back the misplaced anger as a front for all the dread and self-loathing underneath. It would make it harder for Eli to move on if he was stuck blaming others, shaking with outrage pointed at the wrong person. The empath tried to shove those emotions down, calm them both and make Eli realize he was picking a senseless fight. Tretij’s posture, reaching out as though he could physically soothe the other, only made it worse.

“Don’t touch me, you floating freak!” Eli roared, having reached the end of his tether and grasping the loose front of the straitjacket while pulling back a fist, telegraphing his intentions. Tretij had expected a bad reaction but not an all-out fight, mind shoving back with a startled release of energy before Eli’s hit could connect, the blond’s attempted grapple cut short as he was thrown like a ragdoll. 

It was actually far less power than Tretij could have used, especially given his tenuous emotional state, but the boy still hit the rotting drywall with a crack that left it with a shattered hole. There was a brief surge of concern that he had taken it too far, Tretij inhaling sharply as the shared pain pulsed through his own body. To his surprise, Eli only laughed, a strangely unsteady sound as he unstuck himself from where he was tossed. The blond wiped at his face, covered in dust and a few cuts and ready for a rebuttal; no lasting damage then, Tretij realized while settling back, unnerved but waiting.

“I have to say, I didn’t think you had it in you.” Eli’s laughter died down, became serious though he still held a nearly playful gleam in his eye as he circled the psychic. He looked like the wolfdog Tretij had seen around the base, the illusion of domestication broken by instinct. It made Tretij’s heart race, mouth dry and unsteady as those frustrations continued to leak into him. Eli could move faster than Tretij but was powerless to actually hit him, darting to the side and clawing at nothing but black mist as the psychic evaded, unable to stop Tretij from seeing his moves with their minds linked. 

Eli spun, fist catching the wall and putting another hole in it as he bellowed his frustration. Tretij could taste the bitter resentment in his mouth, that sickening hunger to dominate that Eli wanted flowing into him until it was all he could think of. He wanted the physicality of fists and flesh, to curl his fingers into hair and pull, forcing Eli to grant him actual respect in the same thread that Eli wanted to force Tretij to submit. He wondered if this was what was always hidden just out of sight beneath Eli’s usual countenance, a hatred born of feelings of constant inadequacy; it was frightening, the irresistible way it called him to react and mirror the other boy, the possibility of violence the only thing the blond was trained to respond to.

When he reappeared it was only as a flash of red before he knocked the small commander off-balance with his own body in an ill-planned tackle, both of them tumbling to the floor in a typical schoolyard rumble of flailing limbs and howling. Admittedly Tretij wasn't even sure what he was trying to do, hadn’t been prepared for things to come to this even as he was overwhelmed with the desire to do it, his ineffectual tearing with weaker hands not enough to get in more than a couple of feeble blows before Eli knocked the wind out of him and shoved the smaller boy back, the muzzle of the mask the next target.

Eli seized it, twisting it up then sideways, using the momentum to reverse their positions and pin the slighter of the two to the floor. The movement was so fast Tretij hardly had time to realize his mask was being pulled from his face entirely while the world tilted, the gasp of panic and grabbing after only making Eli finish what he had started with a distinct inkling of vicious glee for the reaction it garnered. He held it out of reach, aloft in one hand like a trophy, pressing with just enough force under Tretij’s jaw to keep him stilled: a warning and a threat. 

There was nothing between them now, red hair coiled around Tretij’s head like a pool of blood in his defeat; Eli’s nearly-impressed and triumphant smirk faded as their eyes met without glass between, Tretij’s the silver of a mirror catching blue, a reflection of each other. The rebellious anger morphed into revelation and bafflement as Eli’s gaze traced the cut along the slighter boy’s cheek, over what was left of the bridge of his nose, up to his hairline and down his throat where the burns were still splotches of pink and slight webs of white scar tissue. 

Tretij closed his eyes against it, thin chest still fluttering quickly like a bird’s as he was reminded of the lab and how it was to be observed, treated like he was less than human. He waited for the revulsion, the insults and the abandonment, swallowing against the constriction and wondering if Eli would follow through, see it as putting a pitiful creature out of its misery. 

It was to his disbelief that the blond did nothing at all, no fight left in either of them now as Eli rolled his weight back onto his heels and sat aside, rubbing at a small streak of crimson under his nose with the back of his arm. There was only fresh bruises and silence, sunlight streaked with dust motes leaving shimmering trails over the floor where Tretij lay catching his breath.

“Shit,” Was all the blond uttered, glancing askance as Tretij pushed himself up on trembling arms and observed him warily as though their fight could resume at any moment. With even less of a barrier between their minds he was subjected to the hectic stream of thought pushing against his own, starts and stops where Eli might have vocalized them but caught himself at the last second. Tretij didn’t even want to spare the energy to hover, turning his bare face away and wincing at the new aches on top of the old ones and fighting back a sniffle.

“Didn’t think you’d look like that under there,” Eli spoke but Tretij didn’t want to hear it even if he could understand, refusing to give any indication that he was listening with his back to the other. Not that it deterred Eli: it never did. “I guess if I looked like that I would want to wear a mask too. How’d it happen, you must have really pissed someone off to get a face like that out of the deal.” 

There was a casual quality to his words, not quite the rude and condescending tone Tretij had anticipated though he could guess what Eli wanted to know; Tretij would rather bury those memories than relive them, giving up nothing despite the mental jabbing. Maybe it was Eli who was doing the pitying now, a small clink of metal as he turned the gas mask over in his hands, examining it knowing Tretij wasn’t going to give anything up. 

After a few moments of quiet Eli clicked his tongue, back to his default state of irritation and standing with a creak of the floorboards under his boots. Tretij froze, tense and waiting, arms locked around his waist and nails burrowed into the spaces between his ribs. But there was nothing immediately worrisome he could feel, the emotional tether between mellowed out and calmer than it had been since their arrival. At least the fight had been good for that much, Tretij thought bitterly.

“Here.” There was a bump at the redhead’s shoulder, slowly glancing aside to see Eli was surrendering his mask, the filter slightly scuffed from their sparring match but otherwise whole and his again. Tretij moved his gaze further up, somewhere between guarded and defiant as he snatched it back, set to putting it on and breathing a sigh of relief. Eli had remained, watching as Tretij floated up and didn’t concede any distance between them this time, staring at the blond as if waiting for more. 

“I guess you aren’t completely gutless, even if you are still an idiot for thinking you could beat me.” Eli confessed and crossed his arms, seemed uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Tretij cocked his head to the side, feeling out for something more substantial than that as Eli chewed his split lip. There was some consideration to his next thought, scowling when Tretij let out an impatient breath. 

“Don’t push it. I’m still deciding if I want to keep you around.” He quipped, shoving past and moving the floating boy aside with one arm. Tretij would have been offended by the brushing off if he couldn’t tell Eli was embarrassed, having ended their fight over an emotional reaction and now unsure of how to handle it; his current thought process appeared to involve hunting, taking down something that could be their dinner and a better release of all his energy than continuing to engage in a one-sided argument.

“No, you stay here.” Eli didn’t want any accompaniment with this, holding out his hand and rolling his eyes when Tretij pushed back with a whine of concern, mostly out of fear of being left behind. “I’m not going to run off, so cut it out. Just… watch the place until I get back. Take a nap or something, I don’t care.” Tretij couldn’t be certain but it was as if the other boy was practically fleeing from him, leaving him hovering alone as the door rattled with Eli’s departure. 

Tretij let his toes touch the floor, buckles jingling as he took stock of the remains of their fight: the hollows caved into the wall, streaks in years-old dust from footprints and body outlines, a couple of drops of blood smeared into the wood that were, thankfully, not his own. Observing the fallout and running his palm over the new blemish in his mask filter, the empath could no longer be entirely sure who the winner was here, but he was starting to believe it might not be Eli.

* * *

Eli, true to his word, did come back after a few hours, noticeably lighter emotionally than he had been before. Although he didn’t vocalize it - perhaps thinking of the futility of trying to say as much when Tretij wouldn’t get it anyway - the blond was accepting of Tretij’s companionship again, both existing peacefully side by side after their spat with apologies unspoken but more or less understood. Words seemed useless to exchange now, sitting silent around the campfire built from splintered wood torn from the front porch with the remains of whatever poor animals Eli had caught roasting in the heat.

“We shouldn’t stay here long, in case they know we escaped and come looking.” Eli sounded pensive, one knee pulled to his chest with his arm wrapped loosely around, weight thrown back onto his other hand. Tretij was sure he was more talking to himself than for their mutual benefit. “Not that we can walk forever. I think it’s time to get out entirely, leave Africa and go anywhere else. I’m sick of this place.” 

Tretij tilted his head, unsure of his meaning as the boy pulled their dinner from the fire, rough cuts of meat on sticks with charred skins. Not exactly appetizing, but it would be the best thing they would get for tonight. Tretij took his proffered share from his side of the fire, pulling it to himself with his mind and letting it hover there, cooling and making no move to actually eat. Eli seemed to be mulling over a smart comment to make about that, lips pursed and watching. 

“Just take it off; I’ve already seen what you look like. If you don’t eat and pass out I’m not carrying you around.” He snipped, teeth tearing into his portion and wincing at the residual heat. Tretij couldn’t help a small twinge of amusement at that, though he was wary to take off his mask again. When hunger won out and he loosened his gas mask enough to lift it and chew at the tough kebab, he tried to turn away but remained all too aware of the way Eli’s eyes were on him again, not subtle in his staring. 

“It’s really not… all that awful, now that I’m seeing it again.” Eli spoke up when Tretij made eye contact, uncovered face speaking his feelings plainly when it came to being treated like a zoo exhibit. “Your scars, I mean.” He traced on his own face a line curved on his cheek, the empath not sure what to make of that and frowning, sleeve coming up to cover the scar. Eli rolled his eyes.

“I just said it _isn't_ that bad. You really don’t understand me at all, do you?” He pushed himself over, scooting closer and tugging the end of the sleeve down to expose Tretij’s face again. The annoyance in his tone had been flat, letting go and crossing his legs. The redhead averted his eyes, such an intense gaze making his skin crawl. “Maybe I should take you back to Czechoslovakia, so I can learn how to tell you how stupid you’re being in your own tongue.”

Tretij looked back, knowing the name of his home country but unsure of the context. Was Eli planning to take him there and leave him? No, he knew the other boy wouldn’t waste so much effort on that; if he really was so sick of Africa, Tretij didn’t know why he didn’t want to go to his own country first, pulling at the other’s mind to try to find an image of home and digging up nothing that he thought could be close. The further back he went the memories started looking eerily similar to his own, white halls and careless adults, a low level of fear beneath every monitored movement.

He didn’t make it beyond that before Eli hissed in pain, the memories too deeply embedded to draw them out without him noticing and resisting. Tretij released immediately, body language speaking his apology while the blond grit his teeth, scowling; Tretij wondered for a moment if he was going to become hostile again, the boy spitting into the dirt as though trying to rid himself of a bad taste.

“Can’t say I’m keen on going back to all that, I’m sure even you can see why. It wasn’t home, it was a prison.” Eli didn’t back off as he explained, pulling on the loose belt strap on the end of the straitjacket sleeve. It was a curious that he would play with such a thing, seeking something to do with his hands. Tretij could understand wanting any sort of distraction to keep from thinking about an unpleasant past. 

“Even if it’s Zaire, or Czechoslovakia, or wherever, I’m better off where they can never find me again. I’ll make damn sure of that.” He all but snarled, and Tretij could see those things he had wanted to bury brought forward in his anger: abused and berated by those who were supposed to care for him, his last act of rebellion before his flight into the African wilds to kill one of his guardians with his own knife, stealing a souvenir in the form of a bright red beret. It matched the color of blood that poured from the man’s mouth, bright like a jewel against the washed-out background of the memory.

Tretij understood this. He could see the intensity settling in Eli’s shoulders and body, the thought of it all making him want to run into the woods and not come back. It was haunting him and would continue to do so, coloring every choice he made as if those people were still on his heels. He was living waiting for the next attack, covering it up with bravado and thorns, but Tretij knew it very well. He was afraid, too.

A sleeved hand reached over, slow and cautious, to the side of Eli’s head, the boy observing with hollow eyes focused a thousand miles away but still managing to give an air of upset confusion. Tretij didn’t wait for the reprimand, showing himself in memory of the lab in Moscow, the parts he was willing to give up to the other. His cold room like a cage, people looking through him as if he wasn’t even there, more ghost than human as he was led through test after test with cool gloves and wires pressed against his skin. 

"Stop," Eli was clenching his teeth at the memories coursing through his head, grasping Tretij at the wrist and forcing his hand away, silencing the stream. The empath was feeling rather sheepish now, able to sense something was off about his companion but unable to pinpoint what had gone wrong. The intensity had appeared to flow outward, leaving Eli more agitated than ever; instead of finding common ground he was growing irate and defensive, memories flitting about behind his eyes so quickly Tretij couldn’t process what was happening until Eli was on his feet and physically pushing him back with his body.

“So what are you trying to say? You’ve been put through some shit too, so you know what it’s like? You understand? They were _scared_ of you, you could have made them into puppets if you damn well wanted! Instead you were a coward, and you have nobody to blame but yourself!” He yelled, spitting venom. The empath was frozen, tears prickling in the corners of wide eyes, emanating hurt and regret over his actions until Eli sneered at him, shoving him back, clearly thinking how he was _not worth it._

"At least nobody wanted to touch you because of your fucked-up face." He hissed as if torn between pain and some twisted self-satisfaction at putting the other boy in his place. Tretij was pulling his mask back on as fast as his shaking fingers allowed, trying to escape the wave of emotion and isolate himself again; Eli's thoughts were a tidal wave, unpleasant and dragging him into something neither would rather explore or discuss.

“You don’t know a thing about me, Tretij Rebenok.” Eli’s voice was a warning, backing away, breath hitching and hands turned into fists as he stormed back inside the lodge. The fire was dying, a low flame that would go out within the next hour glowing dimly and illuminating the half-eaten meal and the places where they had been sitting rather peaceably only a few moments before. Tretij dug his toes into the dirt there, disappointed and ashamed for having tried.

Even still outside and mask in place Tretij could feel the tumultuous connection to Eli, the boy raging and sick with something as he paced restlessly in the dark. There would be no point going in after him until he had worked through it a little, the empath wrapping his arms around his stomach and breathing deeply, trying to calm himself. He had only wanted to help, but always seemed to do the wrong thing and make it worse. Not that Eli made it any easier, flying into a rage anytime Tretij tried to forge actual understanding.

Eventually things calmed enough that Tretij put out the barely-there remains of the campfire by dousing it in dirt, heading inside and floating wraithlike through the small cracks of moonlight on his way to sleep. He had, earlier while Eli was skinning their dinner, pulled all of the least-disgusting cushions and blankets together into a makeshift bed, laid it all inside an inner room that was most protected from drafts and water damage. It was better than sleeping on the floor, or on crates and boxes.

Tretij knew Eli wasn’t asleep long before he came in, the boy curled up on the mass dead center, a message that was admittedly a bit irritating to Tretij when he had been the one to make the bed. The psychic set his feet onto the ground, making a little noise to be less jarring as he stepped closer and tried to force enough room for himself. Eli grunted before he acquiesced, giving in just enough space for the small wisp of a boy to climb in beside, lying back to back and each dutifully attempting to ignore the other. 

Despite exhaustion, neither was sleeping, anger and embarrassment having left them too tired to start anything else though their minds were still racing. Tretij pillowed his head on his arm, feeling the small shivers from Eli and knowing that they weren’t caused by any sort of chill, but instead the overwhelming pull of unfortunate memories, sinking in them in a way the empath was all too familiar with; if he was crying it was almost entirely inaudible aside from his breathing. It was rather distressing to be so close yet helpless, neither of them going to find rest like that when the knot metaphor he had given Eli before on base just as accurate now as ever. 

Tretij wasn’t good at comforting, having never received much of any himself. But the empath liked to think there had to be some sort of instinct for it, knowing how he would want to be treated even though he knew Eli would never be the one to give that to him. He could only sigh, wondering when he had become so starved for human connection that he would submit to this over and over, hoping something would be different each time, that he would finally get it and make things work. If Eli was too prideful to be the one to do it, then Tretij would find the solution.

Removing his mask in the dark made the issue all the more apparent, negativity so close and thick that it was like a heavy heat pressed directly on his brain. Setting it aside and turning over, Tretij breathed even, forced a projection of calm as best he could as his senses were filled with the scent of dirt and sweat and campfire smoke, pushing his forehead to rest in the dip between Eli’s shoulders. It wasn't a sensation he would call pleasant, both of them sticky and unwashed skin-to-skin, but as far as touching someone went it was better than previous experiences of being hit or pushed.

The blond stiffened noticeably at having Tretij nestled against him, might have said something before the empath wormed his way through the mental defenses while Eli was off-guard. He wouldn’t pull the same trick as he had before and force Eli to sleep, but he could overlay his own thoughts and usurp anything else, hopefully making it enough of an escape that they could find rest. 

He tried to remember a time or a place when things hadn’t been so unhinged before settling on the moment Eli had come to him to apologize, taken by the calm but perhaps also wanting the same outcome even if it was unlikely. In his mind the gentle summer rain and a rolling ocean stretching into the distance remained plenty pleasant enough to focus on. Having someone else there didn't diminish it at all, shuddering breaths ceasing to sound so wounded.

Relaxation came in stages, the redhead able to feel as each muscle in the other boy’s body released and he fell into the shared memory. There didn’t have to be words or gestures there, Tretij vividly able to recall the rain falling cool onto his skin and contrasting it against the heat his physically body was experiencing. Feeling emboldened by the positive response so far, Tretij turned the unmarred side of his cheek against Eli's back to be more comfortable, gradually easing his arm over the blond's waist to rest his covered hand against the bottom of the blond’s ribs. 

Eli made no move to pull away from it, thoughts growing fuzzy with oncoming unconsciousness as his arm came to rest over the foreign one and tangled the sleeve about his own hand. Perhaps it was his own way of seeking comfort, more confident in indulging it when he didn’t have to look at Tretij to do so. Tretij didn’t think of Eli as someone who craved human contact and connection, at least not in the same way that he did, but perhaps he had tried too hard to understand someone who didn't want to be opened up and left vulnerable. He needed to start smaller, build up those reassurances until Eli felt he could trust to show that side of himself.

It wasn’t long before Tretij was easing into the illusion of his mind next, breathing deep and relishing the closeness and conflict between his senses in memory and the flesh. The even heartbeat against his ear was as good as any lullaby, falling asleep feeling more comfortable on their nest of lumpy rags than he ever had in his childhood bed.

* * *

There was no fuss made about their sleeping arrangements come morning. Eli had come to first at the light of dawn and slipped himself from the other boy’s hold, Tretij waking with the movement and grumbling low in his throat at his sleep being disturbed. Bruised eyes half-closed were barely focused on the blond, Eli looking down at him with a peculiar expression that Tretij couldn’t decipher when he was still riding on the pleasant warmth and the fuzz of dreams.

“If you’re awake, then get up. We’re leaving out this morning.” He said, voice still gruff with sleep as he readjusted his clothes and left the room. Tretij took far more time to join the world of the living, slowly hovering himself into a sitting position and putting on his mask before going out to join Eli. The other boy was already waiting outside, the seashell he carried before fastened at his hip, having meant quite literally that they were going; there was nothing to take with them, foraging for breakfast as they walked.

Tretij wasn’t sure how much of a plan Eli had, but he began to piece it together as they went along. They followed the trail from the lodge and eventually found a path that looked well-traveled, leading some miles away to a highway. Tretij couldn’t read any of the posted signs, but the other boy seemed satisfied when he found them, picking their direction and keeping them going just out of sight of the road on the off chance anyone made a fuss about two children wandering around.

It was only when the heat of the afternoon became truly oppressive that they stopped, seeking shade and sharing a canteen Eli had filled at a river on the way. It did little to abate their hunger but they were no longer dehydrated, Tretij laying back against the bark of a tree and getting sleepy with little else to do but bear the uncomfortable temperature. Eli, sitting in grass so tall it came up to mid-back, remained only an arm’s length away, staring out into the distance and thinking of something Tretij couldn’t be bothered to pry at.

His rest was interrupted before it could start by the soft bump of a large insect landing on Tretij’s person, small stick legs crawling their way up his collar. Bugs were something he had grown accustomed to out here, preferring to move them aside than kill them where possible, slow to reach up and encourage the thing onto his sleeved hand. It was rather unusual-looking, with a flat body and triangular head, long arms folded close and bulbous eyes that seemed to be staring straight at him. It appeared to be grooming itself rather like a cat, mandibles gnawing on its spiny forearms. Tretij didn’t have many standards for insects, but this one was almost rather cute.

“Never seen one before?” Eli was gazing over at him now, cheeks flushed slightly pink with either sunburn or the heat, the redhead couldn’t tell. “In English they’re called praying mantises. Down here there's a lot of superstition about them, that they’re gods or messengers or something like that. If one lands on you, it’s supposed to be good luck.” He shrugged, dismissing the beliefs, and Tretij observed the creature as it determinedly climbed onto the filter of his mask, its antennae flicking about.

“Hey, it kind of looks like you.” Eli grinned, amused by the comparison and outright laughing when Tretij huffed in offense for being compared to an insect. For what little English he knew, he always seemed to catch when he was being insulted. “I mean, with your mask and that jacket… You really don’t see it? It’s practically a complement, considering.” The blond clarified, moving closer and coaxing it to hold onto his fingers before it got tangled in Tretij’s mess of hair. For a moment the empath thought he might kill it, but instead he placed it on the trunk of the tree, the mantis skittering up and away from them.

“I don’t think I believe in any god, but I’m not going to tempt fate, either.” He said by way of explanation, staying close for a moment before leaning on the tree to make his way to his feet. Their brief break was over already, Eli eager to get back to walking in the hopes of making it… somewhere. Tretij wasn’t sure exactly where their end goal lay, not overall too concerned with it for now as Eli never just wandered without a plan in mind. They would cross those bridges as they got to them.

He was more focused when Eli held out his hand, helping pull Tretij up and nearly stumbling when the psychic floated and negated his body weight, almost getting tossed instead. Comradery between them like this was a new and welcome adjustment to Eli getting up and leaving without a word, expecting the other boy to chase at his heels like a dog. Tretij imagined it had been his determination that had relaxed them both, a peaceful night’s rest without the strain of bad memories or anxiety over the future able to reset them and return to the way they had been before Sahelanthropus and the salt lake.

They walked for hours more until the landscape began to change, heavier grasslands giving way to sand and dirt and far less coverage as the sun descended. Tretij was beginning to see actual houses now, buildings and business clustered around the roads though Eli made sure to keep as far from their notice as possible. For the people who crossed their path Tretij turned their minds away, letting them walk unseen until Eli breathed a sigh, as if at journey’s end.

“Finally,” he muttered, mouth dry as he sped up his pace toward the building with a red roof, some cars and trucks parked or cycling through; a gas station, Tretij squinting in confusion as to why Eli could be pleased with finding it. In the growing dark it looked unappealing, dusty and dingy under overhead lights swarming with insects but the blond marched toward it regardless, surveying the lot from a safe distance before pulling Tretij along by the sleeve. Although there were few people around Tretij reflexively hid from their notice.

“Go inside and get us some bottles of water and something to eat.” Eli directed, squatting behind a car covered in so much dirt it was hard to see the color of its paint underneath. Tretij shifted, uncomfortable with the idea of stealing from anyone out here; these people weren’t running sketchy militaristic bases and might not be able to afford some petty theft from a couple of unkempt boys on their way to god-knows-where. Eli rolled his eyes at the redhead’s hesitation, pushing him toward to doors.

“Water and food. Just go and be quick about it!” he hissed, turning back to the car and working at the handle while Tretij reluctantly accepted his mission. Inside the building was cleaner than outside, a strange smell from the chemical cleaners wafting into his mask as he took to finding anything he could recognize by sight, pulling up the edge of his overlong jacket into a sort of basket to place them in after tucking a couple of bottles of water under his arm. The man at the front counter didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss at all, his expression staring straight through the psychic and making him distinctly uncomfortable as Eli pressed his impatience into his head.

Tretij found Eli inside the car he had been tinkering with at his return, door cracked open and the black smoke of his teleported arrival not garnering more than a brief glance as Eli fiddled with some wires pulled out from beneath the steering column. It seemed he had an even stranger and wider set of skills than Tretij anticipated, the plastic-wrapped bread in his jacket crinkling as he floated up and observed with interest before Eli pushed him back by the muzzle of his mask.

“Sit over there, you’re blocking my light.” Eli didn’t even look up when he said it, still focused on the task quite literally at hand as Tretij got the message and moved himself into the passenger seat. It had been a long time since he had ridden in a car, years since his father had taken him to the city in a rental where he could watch the world zooming by outside and pass the time wondering what lay beyond those long stretches of road. Now Tretij was starting to think he was a little tired of having gotten that wish.

A few lights on the dashboard began to flicker on, Eli hissing and tapping together the stripped wires in his hands, sparks briefly illuminating his face. Tretij wasn’t entirely certain how safe that was at all, the other boy murmuring something under his breath as he tried it twice more, the car at last jolting to life with a few revs of the engine. Eli smirked at that, carefully dropping the wires and looking to see if the sudden noise caught anyone’s attention as he jammed his knife into a panel behind the wheel and wrenched it side to side until something gave with a snap. Tretij inwardly felt more impressed by watching this show of resourcefulness than he had seeing Eli pilot Sahelanthropus. 

After a brief check Eli seemed satisfied with his handiwork, hitting the gas and sending them careening onto the empty road with far more speed than the psychic thought entirely necessary. Tretij gripped his seat nervously while Eli crowed his laughter to the wind whipping through his open window. The symbolism of cars as freedom wasn’t entirely lost on him, though Tretij couldn’t enjoy it until they had been on the road long enough to adjust to the way Eli drove, not much to see beyond the headlights but relaxing with no imminent danger apparent.

Tretij lifted his mask, sorting through the packages of things he had grabbed before twisting the cap off the water bottle and drinking until his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. In retrospect he started to think he should have grabbed more than only two of them, blinking owlishly when Eli’s hand came from the side and pulled it from his grasp to get a drink for himself. The blond didn’t take his eyes off the road at all, plastic crinkling under his gloves. 

“Kind of a weird assortment you got there. I forgot convenience food isn’t really a thing around here.” He glanced over, taking stock of what Tretij had picked up: a couple of types of flatbreads and what looked like fruits with bright colored skins, plucking one of the latter and peeling the yellow outside back with his teeth, one hand on the wheel. Tretij mimicked him, though using his hands instead taking the more animalistic route. 

Between the two of them they made scraps of what Tretij had stolen long before they reached the next city in a little over an hour, glittering lights in the dead of night and some people walking around despite how late it was. Tretij hadn’t even settled in to the car at all by their arrival, staring out the window with his mask back on while Eli took them around and around the streets before eventually pulling in to a building that appeared to be a hotel, though it was hard to tell as they were parked at the back. Tretij curled his toes over the edge of the seat while Eli reached down and yanked the wires apart, the car sputtering into silence.

The lock to the hotel entrance was easier to pick than getting the car started, slinking around the hallways and breaking into another room that was empty but clean. Moving a chair in front of the door would buy them a little time if someone came around, Eli happy to make himself at home by kicking his boots aside while Tretij hung back, observing him opening drawers and looking for anything hidden in crevices before becoming bored with it and sitting on the bed.

“I saw a few signs for Arusha airport on the way in, could be our ticket out of this place.” Eli lay back against the pillows, somehow not uncomfortable wallowing in his own filth on the pristine sheets. “Have to see about flight schedules and all… maybe get you something else to wear. Not sure you could get away with that look on an aeroplane.” Tretij shrunk back slightly, attuned enough to his mind to get a sense of what Eli was talking about and rejecting the idea of flying, shivering at the thought of the one flight he could remember.

“You fly on your own; you’re telling me you won’t do it in an aeroplane?” Eli scoffed, irritated at the rejection of his plan and sitting back up. Tretij shook his head vehemently, trying to imagine some other way. Trains, or even driving, now that Eli had stolen that car, would be preferable to him, but the other boy wasn’t having it. The weariness of all day travel had ground them both down, quick to snap.

“Absolutely not, we’re flying back and you can deal with it or you can stay here. It won’t kill you to suck it up for a few hours.” Eli shut it down and turned away, short-lived argument over as he turned off the bedside lamp and settled down to sleep. Tretij could only scowl at his back, annoyed at being brushed off but not much he could do about it at the moment. Eli was right, in that it wasn’t exactly feasible any other way, but it wasn’t himself he was worried about getting killed on a flight. He’d already proven he could survive.

Tretij continued to hover by the window, tired but upset and stuck in that mental loop as he picked over the memory of how things had gone so wrong before. He wasn’t sure he could save Eli or anyone from that if it happened again, the underlying fear of loss of control gnawing until there came a tug at his ankle, blue eyes glaring into his lenses through the dark with exasperation as he reeled the slighter boy down like a kite.

“You’re not doing either of us any favors. You can keep being pissed in the morning, but for now let me sleep.” Eli grumbled, pushing the empath to the other side of the bed so his message was clear. But just laying down did little to stop the mental flow, agitation born of exhaustion growing between them until Eli growled under his breath and rolled over, hooked his fingers into one of the belts along the back of the straitjacket to haul Tretij closer. 

The redhead froze, tensed for a hit or some sort of castigation, hands reflexively coming up to protect his mask and eyes shut against nothing. Along the curve of his spine pressed unexpected heat, breath in his hair and an arm that slithered under his own, resting across his chest and making him feel even smaller, yet safely confined. There was no hostility, but he could hardly breathe for that moment of surprise.

“I’m just returning the favor, understand?” Eli spoke, voice low as if other people might listen in. “You can do the same thing you did before, connect to my mind or however you did it… Isn't this uncomfortable to wear in bed?” The hand against Tretij’s chest tapped against his muzzle filter, the psychic twitching back and feeling Eli snort. 

“Suit yourself. Just go to sleep.” The command was half-mumbled against his scalp, the blond trying very hard to stay as tranquil as possible, pushing down the bothersome background noise of worry. There was nothing especially gentle about his mind beyond it, Tretij believing Eli was starting to pick up that their connection was a two-way street not just for fighting or controlling monstrous weapons; he was able to influence the empath in more delicate ways as well, sharing thoughts and emotional states simple to do when there was an ounce of trust between, though it wasn't something easily given. 

It wasn’t perfect, but it was enough, Tretij counting the breaths in his hair and finding it a helpful distraction as the tension gave way to rest. He thought of the forest, and exhalations became late summer wind, city life turning into distantly warbling birdsong. In his hand the praying mantis, just as vivid in memory as it was in life, perched with a knowing look and its forelegs resting along the lines of his scars. Whether god or good luck he didn’t know, but he watched it intently as his world changed to dreamy watercolor, full of the distant clicking of insects.

* * *

As planned as things seemed to be when they first arrived, Tretij observed Eli’s frustrated downward spiral as he learned that not everything was going to bend to his will when it was convenient. The city airport he had hinged his bets on only flew local, the closest international airport located even further away by bus now that their car had been towed. The niceties of the hotel they stayed in meant it was popular enough to be difficult to roam around and not seem suspicious to the guests and staff, looking as they did and without chaperones. Nothing dangerous, but somewhat bothersome.

Tretij stayed in their room instead of joining Eli on these adventures, too conspicuous and not powerful enough to turn away dozens or hundreds of minds from his strange appearance without getting a headache. That seemed to suit Eli just fine; he was used to doing things on his own and after the first day, no longer needed to reassure the other boy that he would come back. The redhead proved he was useful despite spending most of his hours resting by getting them both meals, thieving room service and other items from fellow guests with them none the wiser for it. They likely wouldn’t be able to stay here for very long before their schemes were found out, but for now it was comfortable living.

Yet it remained little consolation for Tretij, knowing he had to prepare mentally for the event he knew was coming. Eli had learned that the other nearby airport provided flights into Germany, which he then declared to be the best option for them; it would be two more days until the next, giving ample time to rest and prepare instead of looking like they had just wandered out of the jungle; Eli did the brunt of the work for that as well, stealing out at sundown their second evening in and leaving Tretij to hold down the fort until a few hours later, returning with a nicked holdall bag that he dropped to the floor after he reentered and secured the door. Tretij floated over, curious.

“Secondhand store was easy to get into. Not the best, but it’ll work, I think.” Eli explained as he unzipped the bag, pulling out articles of different sizes in an array of muted colors. “I didn’t know your size, so you should try them all on after you take a bath.” Eli separated out the articles that were obviously more to the thinner boy’s fit, handing them over and taking the rest. Tretij looked at the heap of clothes, an odd feeling washing over him at this return to something like normalcy. Regardless, a bath would be welcome after all this time in the wilds now that he had something clean to wear.

The bathroom had already grown grimy from their unwashed feet tramping about, Tretij pointedly avoiding his reflection in the long mirror as he undressed. With the jacket discarded he felt lighter than he had in months, skin underneath having grown paler than ever to the point that even his freckles looked washed out where they remained. Peeling off the undershirt left him wincing, discovering the fabric had become attached to his flesh with dried blood. It took a hard yank to remove, biting back a whimper at the pain and shoving away a rush of concern and mental probing from Eli.

He hazarded a look in the mirror for damage control, blood already flowing freely from the contractures he had thought were healed. From the center of his upper back to his right shoulder was the worst of the gash, fragile skin torn like paper and oozing, the second scar at the dip in his lower back messy but outwardly better off at a glance. The fight where he had gotten knocked back by Sahelanthropus had done more damage than he had thought, running too high on adrenaline at the time to realize he had been bleeding until the wounds had scabbed over. 

Tretij looked away, finished stripping and ignored the blood that trickled in rivulets down his spine and legs to stain his discarded clothes and floor. The lukewarm water of the shower only made it sting all the worse, shoulders shaking as Tretij scrubbed at his hair, removing months’ worth of filth and knots with trembling fingers. When he stepped back out he was still bleeding though it had slowed to a trickle, skin turned pinkish from where he had scoured off layers of sweat and dirt. Holding the towel to his back helped take it the rest of the way, though getting dressed proved harder to do when stretching too far threatened to open the wounds back up again.

Running the towel over the floor before kicking it under the sink with his discarded clothes was a pitiful way to hide the evidence, but Tretij didn’t expect Eli would go snooping, anyway. His hair felt heavy and unpleasant to strap the mask back over as it was still wet, dripping down onto the dark fabric of his shirt and pants, the former thankfully long enough to curl the excess fabric over his hands. When he stepped out Eli was lounging as usual on the bed, cracking one eye open and looking the psychic over, curiosity pulling at Tretij's head but then discarded.

“Finally. Took your time in there, didn’t you?” Eli hopped up and brushed past toward the bathroom, Tretij reading from a glance that he was satisfied that the redhead’s clothes appeared to fit well enough for the journey ahead. The only thing he was lacking still was shoes, but the bag likely held something inside for that, not that he even wanted to put on any at the moment; he’d grown accustomed to not having to wear them all the time, since he rarely walked. 

While Eli washed he took it upon himself to strip the bedding, unsurprisingly disgusting from where they had slept and lay on it, throwing it all aside in a heap and leaving briefly to steal replacements from another room. Lying on clean sheets when finally clean himself felt like an absolute luxury, ignoring the ache in his back to curl up on his handiwork, still-damp hair soaking into his pillow. He nodded off, though he hadn’t realized it until Eli came around, shaking his shoulder and peering into the mask lenses with his hair slicked back with something other than grease for once.

“You’ll make yourself sick if you sleep like that.” He warned, Tretij sitting up and grumbling when it felt like is head was full of sand; he would argue that it was more likely attributed to dehydration from a hot shower than sleeping on wet hair, had he been able to articulate such a thing. His hair had mostly dried besides, fluffed out in wild curls and frizz except the side pressed against the pillow. 

The look earned a small snort of amusement from Eli, the blond backing off enough for Tretij to see that he had reverted to a style similar to what he wore in his salt lake kingdom: a jacket that looked a little too big on his frame with the sleeves rolled to the elbow and the fanged necklace resting on tanned skin, dark pants with the hem too long crushed under his bare heel. 

It was later than Tretij had realized, his internal clock never quite right anymore. He relied more on Eli to dictate their schedule, deciding when they would eat or wake or sleep, running with the same efficiency whether it was just the two of them or not. Although their situation was clearly unusual, Eli still appeared to thrive on that militaristic sameness, even if it only applied to base functions; like now, as he pulled Tretij from bed to have dinner even if the time had long since passed for that for normal people. 

It was getting slightly easier to remove his mask in front of the other boy without wanting to hide or turn his back, and to Eli’s credit he no longer stared as if the sight was a new one, only occasionally glancing up as he mulled something over. The constant fluctuation of do or do not began to press on Tretij’s mind, meeting eyes to convey frustration as Eli tried his best to not look taken off-guard by that bluntness. Perhaps through their constant connection the empath was beginning to show his own boldness, either born of imitation or necessity he wasn’t sure. Eli recovered quickly, scoffing.

“Don’t look at me like that. Are you still going to put up a fit about flying, or have you decided to stop being ridiculous?” He huffed as though he was the one offended as he asked, turning away and eating another mouthful of rice while not waiting for a response. Tretij continued to stare, gaze worming its way under Eli’s skin while the redhead chewed on a piece of bread and considered his options, not sure himself. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I would leave you here, so don’t think that’s changed.” Eli continued to put up that front, leaning forward from where they sat around their dinner on the floor to seem larger than he was. “If you’re coming, we’re doing it my way this time. So you just follow my lead, and we both get what we want.” He spoke as though he knew full well what it was the other boy wanted at all, Tretij blinking at him with little comprehension as to why he was being so aggressive, eating and unaffected by the attempt at coercion. 

“Haven’t you flown before anyway? That report I read about you said you were taken to Moscow by plane. I remember it said something about it experiencing an abnormality…” Eli wracked his brain trying to remember the wording, having not found it important at the time since it didn’t relate directly to the psychic boy’s heritage or power. But it was the first thought that made Tretij pause, frozen as he realized what Eli was getting at, recalling but trying to stifle it.

“What, so something did happen?” Eli pushed on, heedless of any discomfort and suddenly interested. The psychic could feel him pushing at his mental barriers, wincing and pushing it away. Even if remembering might have better explained to Eli his apprehensions, it was still shameful to share, fear rising as he thought of the heat of the fire and the acrid stench of smoke and burnt flesh. He wasn’t aware of how much he was projecting until he could hear Eli’s breath growing rapid, interest ramping up to match Tretij’s anxiety.

“What did you do?” Eli breathed, curious at the memory leaking through and putting down his food for the sake of interest. Tretij’s lips were closed tight, able to feel the scar line where his stitches used to be pressed against one another as he swallowed, reaching for his mask; he needed to block this out, felt like he was going to do something he'd regret if pushed further. But he hadn’t anticipated that Eli would be faster in his determination to have his answers, lashing out like a striking snake and pulling the mask from his grasp in a single fluid motion.

“Think you’re running away from this? You better answer me, I know you understand.” Eli threatened; Tretij wondered, for just that moment, how easy it might be to force Eli to hand him his mask, just as easy as it had been to force the gun from his head. It would likely only piss him off even more and get him nowhere, but it was tempting if only for the thought of the rush he would get. Instead he started faltering under the constant mental barrage, thought of how Eli would take it if he got exactly what he wanted in seeing the brutally sense-ridden way Tretij remembered the past as he acquiesced. 

It started with Nikolai and Mikhail, hard to recall their faces and think of how they had done their best with him and walked into their deaths, unknowing of just how destructive Tretij could be. It was the human connection of it, not just the screeches of unknown minds burning alive in overwhelming waves of horror as they spiraled out of the sky. They had given him the mask as a useless precaution, and Tretij had been so numb to it all he hardly felt anything, wearing their ashes and reeking of death, the one survivor. He could remember the sharp cracking of the hull and the collapsed crash of metal, digging deeper and deeper in until he could almost swear he was there in the snow again, huddled against the remains of the plane for warmth even as the ice soaked into his shoes, hands growing numb and choking on the smell while knowing it was all his fault- 

“…Tretij. Tretij!” Eli called out, heaving and nearly pulling the smaller boy across their makeshift table by the front of his shirt to catch the redhead’s attention. Tretij blinked wide, brought back to the present and wondering how intensely Eli had been affected that he was like this, reflecting those emotions as if they were his own memory. When Eli let go he pulled a face that seemed somewhere between appalled and intrigued, flexing his fingers as though surprised to be back in his own body.

"...So why'd you do it?" He asked after a moment, voice uncharacteristically soft as he glanced up at the other as if waiting for a second crash, some other unleashing of energy from the stress of it. No apology for forcing Tretij's hand, though he didn't expect one. The psychic shook his head by way of an answer, diverting his eyes to the scars on the back of his hands. Tretij couldn't think of how to communicate it, that overwhelming presence that amplified and burst out of him unbidden. Just remembering it made him feel sick, trying to link the memory of the event to Volgin, then later the hospital in Cyprus, the man with the eyepatch who turned out to be Eli's father.

That earned a sound of irritated disgust from Eli as he made the connection and only became all the more agitated for it, crossing his arms and staring off at the shrouded window. "Just one more person my father has ruined, then. Though I suppose you were already in bad shape before that happened." He scowled, Tretij's tired eyes flicking upward. "Is that why you sent that... Man on Fire, after him? You wanted revenge too? But then you met me, and realized who you'd be better off with." Eli was almost smug, but Tretij shook his head.

Truthfully the psychic didn't hold any ill will toward Big Boss, the other Snake. His fault to protect himself from mental intrusion was his own, so far as he was concerned, and though he was upset about how things had turned out at the time, Eli was right to say it all was already far gone by that point. It was just one more drop in the bucket, just another tragedy in a line of them that somehow didn't manage to break Tretij even further than he already had been. His decision to go with Eli had been one of preference, not seeking revenge against anyone but instead wanting companionship and protection from someone he thought might have been, in some small way, a little like himself. 

“So you're afraid to fly because you think that something bad is going to happen again,” Eli said, tapped his fingers against his knee while thinking. Tretij could only be thankful that they were both finally starting to calm down, though it left something else tense in its wake. "There won't be any accidents with me in charge because I’m better than any foolish adult they could send to play guardian. They didn't know the first thing about you, but I do, and I'll use it if I have to." It could have been friendly if not for that last part, eyes glinting and cold. Tretij swallowed against the lump in his throat, meekly seeing a threat for what it was.

"You didn't have any problem throwing me, so I know you must have a survival instinct somewhere in that fluffy head of yours - use it to keep us alive instead of giving us both a headache worrying over nothing." Eli looked back at his dinner, stirring it as though looking for something to do with his hands. He didn't seem the least bit troubled by Tretij's discomfort, having made his point. "I don't think you want to kill me, and it would be more trouble to kill you than it's worth. So don't make me, understand?" A utensil pointed in the empath's direction followed by a heated press against his mental barrier, both dispersed when he nodded his limited understanding. Eli smirked his satisfaction, and Tretij curled up a little more into himself.

Eli resumed eating as though there hadn’t been a long and emotional interlude, the other boy looking down at his food and no longer hungry. The redhead wanted to hold on to some small hope, that twinge of implication between words that they were still partners, equals, even if he was the one clinging more tightly and far more emotionally invested. Although Eli suggested he would have no trouble putting down his final companion like a dog, Tretij suspected he might have a harder time doing so than he let on; to peek into his mind and know the blond wasn't exactly adverse to having company helped, Eli wanting to save face and not seem too attached when he was used to being able to discard people like broken tools. 

Their exchange hadn’t made Tretij feel all that much better about their trip, but he could see that Eli would be able to save him from himself, if it came down to it. Tretij might rather die than have to start over from square one anyway, alone in a foreign land with no sense of purpose; Eli bullied him about but it managed to impart on the empath the drive to keep going, holding to the idea of a future where he wasn’t struggling to survive, persevering to become friends and having his usefulness returned with kindness. Tretij felt pathetic for it, was left pushing it down and down so that he could pretend he wasn’t hurt when the blond acted callously as he so often did.

“If you’re not going to eat that, let me have it. Here, I’ll trade with you.” Eli had watched the other boy aimlessly moving his meal around his plate, withholding his usual judgement for the empath's tendency to eat like a bird despite Eli's pushing. Tretij would rather have not felt obligated to try the rice dish at all as it was thrust into his hands, something about the smell of it making his jaw clench before it even went into his mouth. Eli rolled his eyes, not wanting to have given up his food for nothing and gesturing for him to just try it.

A few bites in had Tretij’s face growing hot and his tongue hotter, coughing at the spiciness of the dish and sniffling, trying his best to look impervious to the burn. Eli snorted his laughter, raising a brow in amusement. “Too spicy for you? They don’t even make it as hot here as I usually like it.” Tretij couldn’t fathom how anyone could be proud of doing this to their own mouth, dropping the act and gulping down water. It was like he had eaten fire itself, Eli eventually taking pity and offering butter-slathered bread to ease the heat.

“Honestly, how would have even survived without me?” Eli cawed, stupidly haughty about his stupid spicy food in Tretij’s opinion as the psychic continued to wrinkle his nose and stick out his tongue to show his distaste; but it at least offered a reprieve in the form of gently mutual teasing, less focus on the creeping depression and discouragement of feeling isolated even with another person around. Ignoring the tight way his back itched, Tretij set the plate down and turned his scarred cheek to rest on his knee, shuttered eyes staring at nothing and trying not to let on how much he wondered the same.

* * *

“We don’t have time to be arguing about this, the bus will be here in twenty minutes! You have to take off the mask, you’ll attract too much attention!” Eli commanded, holding in his hands a black scarf by way of a replacement. Tretij was opposed to the idea of exposing any part of himself, trying to show his apprehension that he needed all the coverage he could have unless they wanted this flight to end up as badly as his first. If Eli cared about that, he didn’t show it, reaching for Tretij’s mask only to have the boy float out of reach with his hands over the sides. The psychic had already been forced into boots too big for his feet, uncomfortable and weighed down; he wouldn’t add more discomforts to that.

“You want to stay here? You can live in this hotel room until they find you and kick you out then, for all I care! Maybe the Russians will come and take you back!” Eli growled, patience worn thin in the early morning hours with neither of them having gotten much rest on their unusual schedule. The only bus for the airport of course had to be ungodly early, still dark outside and only the yellowed lamp lighting their exchange. The blond looked at the ticking wall clock, hissing under his breath before throwing the scarf at his companion, hefting the holdall over his shoulder.

“I’m going to the lobby. You can put it on and meet me there before the bus comes, or not, but I’m not waiting for you.” He pushed past, head held high in a show of pride that he could go alone just as well. The quiet of the room was oppressive after he’d left, Tretij still able to feel his mind as a jumble of tired irritation as he marched on to wait for the bus. In his hands, the redhead let the thick material of the scarf glide over his fingers, minimal feeling of the fabric. It was a poor substitute, would still show his bruised eyes and parts of his scarring, providing little or no protection from the cacophony of others, but it was his only option when his mask was too conspicuous. 

In the bathroom Tretij gingerly removed his mask strap by strap, lay it aside and tried not to balk at the soft whispers of distant minds vying for his own. Eli’s remained the loudest by far, capable of drowning the others to a low hum as the empath began winding the scarf around his face, disliking the way it trapped heat against him, though it did well enough to cover the worst of his facial features. In the mirror he thought he looked more ghost than person, sunken eyes and hair obnoxiously bright against skin and scarf as he deliberated being seen like this. He remembered the airport in Karlovy Vary, the way people looked at him before he got his mask, and loathed the idea that this would be much the same.

A twinge against his mind drew him from those thoughts, realizing with a mild surge of alarm that he bus had arrived, as he read from Eli’s change in demeanor. With no time left to deliberate, Tretij had to make his decision, swallowing his fear and holding his mask in trembling hands against his chest as he ran out. It felt like the first time in too long he had really used his own legs rather than floating, able to feel the painful draw of each unused muscle and the stretch of unpliable scar tissue as his pulse thrummed in his throat. He couldn’t be alone again, would rather subject himself to an uncertain future as long as it meant he didn’t have to do it alone. 

It was fortunate there weren’t too many people waiting when Tretij made it to the lobby, though he could still feel them all too clearly as they turned to look at the boy running in and making far too much noise with his heavy boots on the tile. Eli seemed entirely impassive on the surface at his arrival, turning back around with the rest to pay and get on board as Tretij came up beside, breathing heavily under the scarf and using one unsteady hand to hold it up. After a heaving sigh Eli finally turned to assist, offering his bag to free up Tretij’s hands of his mask and readjusting the fabric to stay in place. 

“Do you have to wheeze like that? People are staring.” He chastised, Tretij fixing him with a withering look and a dull headache that he was well aware of the consequences of his choices. Eli returned it with just as much sass, pulling the slighter boy alongside by the elbow and onto the bus. The money he paid the fare with Tretij was sure must have been stolen, handfuls of coins dumped unceremoniously on the driver before they went to sit in the back, bag stored under the seat. When they started moving things settled as people sleepily turned their minds inward for the journey, Tretij finding the close proximity to Eli abating the worst of it.

The bus ride went on in silence aside from the occasional murmur and the groaning engine, the dark sky of early morning eventually giving way to streaks of pink and yellow as they rode on. It was different here from how it looked over the ocean, or anywhere else Tretij had been, pure colors not tainted with orange from his mask lenses. He had nearly forgotten how brilliant colors could be without it, pressed to the window. Beside him Eli was taking up as much space as possible in his seat, legs bumping as they rattled along. 

The blond’s sleepy countenance belied how awake he actually was, head bowed and eyes closed but mind still churning under the surface. Tretij could tell he hadn’t been surprised or disappointed by his eventual appearance to tag along, accepting it as if he had expected no less. Perhaps he had felt the empath out the same way Tretij had often done to him, knowing exactly what sort of effect he had on him even if they were apart. Their minds were only becoming more twisted around each other if that were true, sensing the other as background noise even when not trying to. The closer they were physically the more it became obvious, moods and actions fading together when egos didn’t come into play to separate their desires.

As they closed in on the airport, the rumble of jets overhead caught Tretij’s attention and likewise had Eli sitting up, the rest of the bus slowly returning to life as their destination approached. Tretij felt himself pulled between his own anxiety and Eli’s calculating thoughts that edged toward unnaturally calm, the blond keeping seated as they stopped to allow all the others off first. His expression had turned absolutely focused, taking in everything and planning every move; Tretij could see those echoes of Eli’s time in his prison before he ran away, the way he had been taught to think like a soldier. He had given the same lessons to the other boys, with all the same impatience for mistakes as he had been subjected to.

It was all Tretij could do to keep up, following at Eli’s heels to keep the roar of other minds at bay. As much as he could tell it annoyed him to stay so close that they were constantly brushing against one another, Tretij felt there was little else he could do to keep himself sane here, in a place where everything chaffed at his psyche. He had thought it would be quieter earlier in the morning, but these kinds of places never did seem to stop, head down as Eli kept pulling him forward to the gate. The more the reality of what he was about to go through set in, the more the nervousness started to bleed over into Eli’s state of mind, chipping away at his concentration and leaving them both antsy.

He nearly leapt out of his skin when Eli’s hand closed over his wrist, a slight jerk of his head indicating that they were moving. Tretij thought he had wanted to get closer to the ticket counter to watch for something, but instead he dragged the smaller boy along the concourse until they reached an unused bathroom. The redhead was shoved in first, Eli behind and locking the door with a resounding click before leaning against it and dropping the bag, pressing his hand to his temple as uncertainty at this new development had Tretij shying away but alert, tense and hovering automatically in his nervousness now that it was just the two of them.

“You’re going to kill me before you even get on the damn plane at this rate.” Eli hissed through his teeth, voice echoing in the enclosed space. “I can’t even think with you like this! Calm down or get out of my head - stop that!” He stalked over, pulling Tretij back onto his feet from the air. The anger did a terrible job of washing out the anxiety, the empath sinking into his scarf and closing his watering eyes against the onslaught of conflictions that pounded in his head. Maybe Eli didn’t understand what he was doing after all, holding him tight over his biceps, palms pressed unknowingly over Tretij’s tattoos.

Standing there long enough was helpful in letting the initial storm abate, Eli back to considering what limited options he had left in the time allotted and trying hard to concentrate through his temper. Tretij’s breath was coming pitifully ragged through his scarf, Eli clicking his tongue and tugging the fabric down to his neck in flagrant frustration. “Do you always have to cry?” He groaned, the empath holding his middle and pulling at his shirt but doing his best reign in his panic. It really was completely exasperating to have to go through this at all, Tretij sure that the other boy was inwardly cursing not leaving alone when he had the chance. Now, they were stuck. 

“Here, let me try…” Eli started, trying to remember and regain his composure from before he let Tretij’s emotions run roughshod through his head. It helped a little, the empath daring to look up and make eye contact, eyes rimmed with red from exhaustion and upset. “Remember what I said about you being more trouble than you’re worth? You’re really testing that.” It sounded like a warning, albeit one gentler than Tretij was used to getting. “Close your eyes, I’m not going to do this with you staring at me like some kicked dog.” He ordered, and Tretij yielded, though he wasn’t exactly sure what Eli meant and could only hope he wasn’t about to be on the receiving end of something unpleasant. 

Instead he felt gloves stroke over the sides of his face, flinching away at the cold slide of them and reminded of how much he hated being touched by the latex and rubber ones the scientists would wear, as if touching Tretij was tantamount to a brush with something disgusting or contagious. Eli stopped whatever he was doing to withdraw, the empath peeking to watch the blond peel off his gloves and discard them, not exactly happy to have to bend to this desire but wanting to be effective with his strange plan. When bare fingers touched the spots behind his cheekbones Tretij jolted for an entirely different reason, sucking in a breath.

“Stay still.” Was all Eli said, laying his fingers flat so that the tips of them brushed just into his hairline, thumbs resting on the indent of his temples. It was different from the way they slept close to one another, maintaining contact but never quite this deeply; this was far more intimate than Tretij was used to, not sure if he even liked this or the way it made him feel with Eli’s presence stronger in his head than ever, coiled around his mind and overriding any other thought, choking out his ego but different from the unpleasant way it felt when Volgin or Skull Face were in his head. 

Tretij was overcome with the warmth of a salty ocean breeze, or grass tickling his feet while insects chirped, like rain falling melodiously over broad leaves in the shadow of Sahelanthropus: all things shared between them, easy to think of until they flowed into the cracks of his broken and anxious mind to fill him with something peaceful. There was a numbness to it as well, not himself but not afraid for it either, unaware until now that staying in someone else’s mind like that his could be comfortable instead of terrifying, not fearing for his sanity.

“I thought that might work.” Eli was pulling away then, Tretij having gotten so enthralled in the shared headspace that coming back to himself felt almost lonely, empty. It was strange to stand there and feel as if all previous emotion had been hollowed out and replaced with someone else’s, like it had been once before but without the distorted burn of hatred or vengeance overwhelming him. Staring up at Eli as the other boy mused over his handiwork, Tretij unexpectedly wasn’t following his usual nervous tendency to break eye contact and look away, even bare-faced as he was. 

“So doing that means I can get into your head, too. Should have figured that’s why getting closer made you tired before.” The blond broke off, the slope of his shoulders relaxed while putting back on his gloves; although they had both found a pleasant mental equilibrium, it was Tretij who felt more mentally fuzzy, as if he were far away from himself. Perhaps that would always be his curse as someone more emphatically affected by thoughts and emotions, especially when they came from someone more familiar to him than typical. 

“At first I thought maybe only you could do that trick, but I guess it isn’t so special after all.” Eli shook his head, focus returned and dragged a hand through his hair while Tretij pulled up his scarf, eyes heavy. “This is like some sort of weird mental balancing act...” Eli mumbled before leading them back to the gate in silence, the queue for boarding lining up with the two taking the rear. The apprehension was still there, though negligible with the soothing pall cast over Tretij’s mind. It sharpened fleetingly as he leaned against Eli’s shoulder, the blond looking straight ahead.

Eli didn’t need to instruct Tretij for passing the ticket counter, more or less huddled behind the taller boy like a shield as they approached, gait even. Mentally manipulating the woman at the gate to look the other way as they walked by was easy, her manicured nails tapping against the counter when she stared over their heads with glassy eyes. There was a time Tretij might have cursed his innate ability to always be so small and unnoticed, but now he could use it to his advantage, felt the way her mind bent to accommodate his suggestions without fuss. It was less difficult with some than with others, Tretij not sure why.

“Easier than I thought it would be.” Eli acted like the illusion was all him, trotting down the ramp while the empath held gingerly to the bag slung over his arm like the other boy was a colt who might bound away. “Certainly easier than having to sneak on another way; when you listen to what I say, you aren’t exactly bad at what you can do.” It was the closest thing Eli could probably give to a sincere complement, the words washing meaningless over Tretij but the positivity warm in his chest as they squeezed into a pair of empty seats as far back in the cabin as possible. It wasn't a full flight, but it was a chaotic buzz of thought against Tretij nonetheless, seated by the window and picking at his scarf while desperately wanting to pull it up over his entire face. At least nobody was staring at them.

Eli stowed the holdall under their seat on the off-chance he might need something from it in a hurry, wholly unconcerned with the thought of flying as he resumed his usual wide-legged sitting with Tretij fretfully pressed against the wall. When the engines kicked in the fretting turned to sitting rigid and statuesque, plucking nervously at his shirt as they lurched. Tretij didn’t feel on the edge of breaking down as he had before, but he still couldn’t help the way his heart choked him as he came to terms with the fact that he was really doing this, that there was no turning back now and his actions could break his life again if he didn’t stay calm.

“If you’re going to be sick, they have bags in there.” Eli gestured flippantly to the seat flap while leaning back as far as the inflexible arrangements allowed, still his typically crude self in pretending to be unaffected. Tretij shrunk further, somehow making himself even smaller as silvery eyes peered over the folds of the scarf at the other before looking down at his lap. There had to have been something about it pitiful enough to actually make Eli scoff, turning away. The psychic could see that the other boy was taking stock of the others onboard, frowning as he came to some conclusion and looked back. He had his own trepidations now, though born of something else as his jaw worked before his mouth opened.

“Give me your hand.” He whispered, scowling as though annoyed at himself to say it at all while he held out his own. Tretij’s gaze darted down then back up, hesitant, and Eli rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to help you, so I don’t have to feel you pretending not to be a jumpy wreck for eight hours. You think it’s fun for me either?” He withdrew to take his glove back off, let it fall into his lap as the plane drew closer to the runway and the engines whined. It would be the only offer Tretij would get, he was sure, pulse pounding heavy in his ears as he slid his fingers uneasily over Eli’s bared palm.

Eli grumbled something, facing forward with an exaggerated air of defeat but not enough to say anything more as they sped up without further preamble, Tretij’s grip tightening as the indecision left him in the moment. It wasn’t quite the same feeling as before, not the same forced wave of tranquility so much as it was having Eli’s mind press against his own in a way that was comfortably warm and nonthreatening, pulling his immediate focus from the real world and giving him something to bury his attention into instead. He couldn’t even hear the other passengers now, body sagging with exhaustion into his seat as he realized he could actually relax. 

The plane tilted sharply as they set on course, too much ground immediately visible out of the window for Tretij’s liking as his anxiety spiked before promptly being soothed, fingers twitching in their hold as the skyline came back into view. The sun had well and truly risen, illuminating the scenery in wash of brilliant greens and yellows that stretched all the way toward the massive white-capped mountain in the distance. Despite his cool demeanor, Tretij could tell Eli was looking over his shoulder to see out at it as well before it faded to seem like little more than stained glass from such a height.

Tretij kicked his feet, finding his mood gradually improved from not being so worked up over possibilities when he was able to rely on the blond like this. It was as though they really were partners, Eli huffing and puffing but willing to tread a little out of his comfort zone to help, literally extending a hand to him; and that thought was what was rewarding more than anything else, Tretij leaning his head against the window while anchored safely to the other, content to remain moored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those following along at home: I placed the lodge somewhere in Tarangire National Park, probably close to the edge. The gas station is a real place too - Katsuli Filling Station - though I have no idea if it existed at this time or not. Admittedly some things I researched (way too much) more than others, so I have probably not captured Tanzania all that well. At least we were only here for one exceedingly long chapter.
> 
> Praying mantis mythology is more of a southern African thing, so maybe a little out of the way for Eli to know about unless he did a lot of travelling. Also, while it looks like there are praying mantises in the Czech Republic, they appear to be rare to find and are mostly located in the south, so it's very possible Tretij would have never encountered one before this. Praying mantises! They're pretty cool.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter, a new warning that the only language I speak is English, so please let me know me if anything is incorrect here!  
> This chapter is also more... fluffy than usual. Fluffy relationship building I guess? A soft break... enjoy

With little else to do for hours and hours except stare out the window, Tretij and Eli spent their time sleeping on and off with their hands linked together, contentedly comfortable. When they finally landed without mishap in Germany, Tretij couldn’t think to explain how relieved he was though he was sure Eli could feel it nonetheless, the blond sliding out of his grip without a word to deplane with the rest. It felt like they had wasted the entire day in the air, the sky darkening as they stretched their legs in the airport. All the German signs and speakers around him reminded Tretij bitterly of Christoph, trying to not think about him and focus on what Eli was doing over the crush of people moving about.

From the look of things, Eli was eagerly pawing through multiple brochures trying to find something in particular, colorful pieces of paper crumpled in his grip. As far as Tretij could tell from a quick examination, the blond wasn’t able to speak nor read German at all, squinting at maps for hotels and hostels like he was expecting it to spontaneously change to English. Had Tretij been better at reading he might have been able to help with what little German he maintained, instead sticking close until Eli tossed them back into their bins, frustrated. 

“Staying here is going to be harder. It’s freezing out, and we can’t wander in the dark all night.” He shook his head, fingers digging into the straps of his bag. Tretij leaned on his shoulder in what he hoped came across as a companionable gesture, hand resting on Eli’s wrist for comfort from the cacophony of voices vying for his mind. It wasn’t terribly helpful to calm him, Tretij trying to maintain a peaceable connection as he pointed at one of the pamphlets Eli had discarded in curiosity; a hotel that may have been nearby, if the professional look of the brochure meant that it catered to people in town on business.

“This one?” Eli picked it back up, unsure. “Steigenberger. Looks classy, I suppose… You have some taste, I’ll give you that. It’s a few kilometers from the airport though; we can’t just walk in the snow. We’ll both freeze.” He made to put it back, stopped when Tretij shook his head and pulled at his elbow. “You have a plan? This ought to be interesting.” Eli raised a brow as he read the other’s wish, being the one pulled along for once as Tretij led him through the flow of traffic out to where the airport ended and buses and taxis lined up. It was snowing out now, not heavy but enough to obscure the outside world even more in a dreamy haze. 

“Good job, you found the buses. Now which do you propose we take?” Eli said rather dryly, with Tretij shooting him a look over his scarf. The attitude he could do without, glancing around for someone who could possibly help. There was a help desk offset from the doors, maybe someone who could give them information on which was which if asked. The issue would be talking to them, Eli following Tretij’s gaze. “I don’t speak German, and I doubt they speak English, Tretij.” He scoffed, jolted along nonetheless as the redhead tugged him in that direction.

The man at the desk looked at the two with some wariness, confusion over two rough, unattended children on the approach. Tretij could feel him gearing up to ask if they were lost, shouldering Eli in front and standing close with his hand firmly attached at the blond’s wrist. For once it wasn’t Tretij that was feeling a little panicked, Eli staring at the empath with blatant irritation. His attention was pulled back forward as the man cleared his throat, a little worried for whatever was happening. 

_“Kann ich Dir helfen?”_ The man spoke up, glancing between the two boys huddled at his counter with concern that this encounter would probably be a difficult one. It wasn’t helped when Eli sputtered, closing his mouth when Tretij pushed against his mind over their connection. He hadn’t bothered trying to communicate mentally with words since their first encounter and even then Eli hadn’t guessed either language he had used; with any luck Eli would pick up on this, Tretij’s German likely unsteady and barely passable but maybe enough. 

_‘Entschuldigung,’_ Tretij pressed the word into Eli’s head, just to start, and the blond whipped around to look at him in surprise. It didn’t take long for him to follow the meaning of what the psychic was doing, Tretij looking at him pointedly and repeating it, gesturing with his eyes back to the man at the help desk who was appearing more and more uncomfortable with them. At least he wasn’t calling for security on the count of a couple lost children yet.

 _“Ent… Entschuldigung.”_ Eli stuttered out the word, uncertain of his pronunciation but helped by the gentle backing of Tretij’s positive confirmation washing over the connection. The man at the desk relaxed slightly, and Eli slowly spoke more as the words were filtered through to him. _“Wo ist dieser Bus?”_ He finally managed to ask, Tretij urging him to show the brochure. It was far from a perfect conversation, but understandable, the man taking the paper and looking it over before assuming Eli’s knowledge of German was enough to digest the simple directions given. Tretij got from it all he needed, prompting the other boy to give a half-hearted _“Danke”_ before they walked away at a brisk pace.

“I had no clue you know German.” Eli was looking at him the same way he had when Tretij had removed the parasites from his throat, brightly surprised with appreciation for the skill apparent. It warmed the empath deep down to be regarded so highly, even as he made a motion with his free hand to indicate that he only knew very little, comparatively. Eli huffed amusedly, “Well if it gets us where we’re going, then it’s enough. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, so you’ll have to be the translator.” He shrugged, both stepping out of the terminal into the bitter evening cold with a shiver passed between.

Luckily the shuttle to their planned hotel was easy to find, coming to and from the airport every twenty minutes or so. It was a long time to wait without adequate clothing, the pair huddled together and glaring at others who stared at them on their way past, rebuffing concern with annoyance for being watched. The bus driver himself may have stopped them had Tretij not encouraged him to look that other way as they got on and took a seat at the back, watching the city pass by in awe of the wintery lights until they reached their destination and pulled the same tricks that they had in Arusha to sneak in. 

The building was more beautiful than could be expressed in a grainy picture on a brochure, Tretij feeling some apprehension at being caught in a place that looked like it might actually take the time to weed out unwanted visitors. Eli, on the other hand, projected his usual confidence as they made their way around, sneaking from one elegant floor to the next to find an empty room. Somehow, they were still linked at the wrist, with Eli having not tried to shake the other boy off just yet. Tretij only let go when he finally found a place unoccupied, vanishing behind the door to unlock it and let Eli in.

“I have to say, I wasn’t so sure when you wanted to come here, but I’m glad you convinced me.” Eli mentioned as he breezed in, locking the door and throwing his bag aside to the foot of the massive bed. “A little too upscale for my liking, but I’d say we’ve earned a break after everything, don’t you?” His smirk turned a little sour when he looked back to catch Tretij digging his mask out of the holdall as though he had been waiting to do so for hours, fingers shaking slightly as he pressed it to his face. The redhead fastened it on with a massive sigh of relief before Eli said anything more, arms crossed.

“Even after everything today, that creepy thing is still what you prefer to wear?” He groused as though personally offended, Tretij ignoring him as he set to work at taking off the boots next. It was so freeing to discard them, floating up before cocking his head at the other boy. The mask allowed him more freedom than the scarf, letting him keep his mind to himself whereas the latter more or less required he stay attached to the blond’s hip to get any relief. He would almost have guessed Eli was jealous, radiating his amusement at the idea until Eli all but growled and gave him an ineffectual shove. 

“What are you getting all happy about? I just thought that you’d want to look less like some cheap horror villain. You know you still can’t wear it outside.” He pointed out, cheeks dusted slightly pink as he realized what the empath had been thinking. Not jealous then, of course not, Tretij thought humorously to himself as he hovered, hand raised to the filter of his mask in a gesture that indicated he still wasn’t going to take it off if he didn’t have to. Eli clicked his tongue. 

“Fine then, do whatever you want. Use it to go scare some food out of someone, I’m starving.” He fell into the plush chair in the corner, legs kicked out and hands behind his head. He was being avoidant now, having perhaps enjoyed being linked a little more than he let on. Not that they still weren’t connected now; it was just to a much softer degree, a defined separation where before was like two rivers merging together. Somehow, Tretij doubted Eli actually liked being so close for so long, but rather was having a small bit of emotional backlash from being left in his own head again.

Nevertheless, the psychic deciphered the request and left to attend to it, a twinge of contentedness coloring his mind as he went. Despite his nature, Eli was just as human as anyone, perhaps even more so than a lot of the people Tretij had met over the last few months. He could be just as emotional, and just as desiring of companionship; or at least, that’s what Tretij hoped he was reading from this, reaching back across their bond and feeling the immediate answer of another mind, finding it soothing and maybe not so lonely after all.

* * *

Eli was up to something, or at the very least was completely distracted on some sort of pet project, his mind consumed by distractions when Tretij was able to feel it. He came and went at unusual hours, brought warmer clothes and odds and ends from here and there for the first week of their stay but never explained himself, remaining aloof. Tretij didn’t worry about it overly much, knowing Eli was secretive and used to not having to explain his actions; still the empath occasionally checked in mind to mind when awake and feeling lonely, knowing he would get a response. 

The hotel only got busier as time marched on, the headache of having to avoid so many people wearing on him sometimes. He was happier when Eli was with him to block it out with his presence but knew better than to wait around for him, wandering the halls with bare feet and his gas mask on, heels in the cushy carpet and hand dragging along the wall idly as he went. He felt remarkably out of place the longer they stayed but couldn’t help but be fascinated by the decadent fixtures, finding ways to stay occupied alone. It was even more an easy distraction when further décor went up in celebration of Christmas, the glimmering lights drawing him like a moth to flame. 

That was how Eli found him one evening, coming in from the cold with snow-dusted hair to see the redhead standing in the lobby with his eyes fixated on the hotel's evergreen tree. The late hour meant there was only a few staff around, easily turned aside if they noticed the small boy who was too distracted to acknowledge the blond until he came to stand next to him. Tretij glanced aside for that, not feeling much of anything from the other besides a solid emotional wall; it seemed as if Eli was purposefully neglecting to feel anything, sucking in a tired breath.

“What a stupid holiday. It looks pretty on the surface, but what's the point? Giving gifts based on nothing but some stupid fairy tale?” He glared up and up, at the glittering star at the top of the tree. Tretij tilted his head a little, not sure what he meant by that. Looking for memories was useless, this time not a case of being blocked out but instead there just being... Nothing. Eli scowled back, a small and tight frown. “Stop prying. I don’t have to share everything with you.” He growled and turned away, boots stomping on the floor as he trudged back to their room. Tretij followed after one last glance back, a sigh through his mask.

To himself, Tretij was still coming to terms with the fact that it had been nearly a year since everything had gone so awry for him. It was easy to forget when distracted by the beauty of the holiday, the thick smell of cinnamon and pine tree overwhelming the memory of choking on blood, letting delicate ribbon run between his fingers instead of thinking of how they’d once been charred past the point of pain. He would never forget that night so long as he lived, but as long as he was still alive, he could make better memories of it. It seemed Eli might never have had a real Christmas either, if his pouting was any indication. 

The thought sprung at him then, that the two of them could have their own Christmas. A real Christmas for once, with gifts and all, the hotel providing the perfect ambiance for the exchange. The sudden spur of excitement was a trill through his head that caught even Eli’s attention, the other boy looking back at him in confusion. When Tretij clammed up he sneered and rolled his eyes, annoyed but only for that moment. The psychic couldn’t be sure what he had against the world this evening, but maybe he would cheer up in a few days’ time, especially if given something thoughtful. It was probably only wishful thinking that kept Tretij from realizing that his plan was likely going to end in nothing but disappointment. He would have to search when Eli went out during the day, too suspicious to move around while the other boy was in the hotel.

There would be plenty of time for it tomorrow, attentions drawn back to the present when Eli tugged at his arm, nodding his head down the hall to where a porter was walking with his back to them. He seemed to be pushing a cart, the metallic clattering of dishes what had attracted Eli to it. The blond’s impatience was pressing into Tretij’s head now, having found their dinner and more or less directing Tretij to distract the carrier. It was a simple enough matter to convince the porter he had forgotten something that required him to leave the food alone, the boys rushing in and grabbing hold of the polished silver plates. Tretij hoped the man wouldn’t get in too much trouble for that, though ultimately Eli had impressed upon him that their needs came first, leading the way without a second thought to some stranger.

It was only when they were safely back in their room that they examined their spoils, delicious smells under covered lids that warmed his hands to touch. It was all foreign to the empath, not that it would stop them from devouring it anyway; Eli however seemed more interested in something else he had snatched from the cart, pulling it out of his pocket and holding it up with something akin to a show of pride. Tretij didn’t understand it at all, pulling off his mask and squinting at what looked like an abnormally small bottle, clear liquid sloshing about on the inside. It was small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, had he been holding it.

“Looks like he wasn’t only bringing food to some unlucky bastard.” Eli grinned, rather proud of himself as he held up the bottle for Tretij to see. There wasn’t anything special about it from a glance, the redhead blinking confusedly as he lifted himself up, turned away to set his mask down. Eli appeared to be offended by that. “Of course you wouldn’t know anything about this, either. Maybe you should just stick to apple juice, that’s for children.” He waited until the empath turned back, still uncomprehending but not appreciative of that haughty tone, before he tossed a can of juice to him, probably pilfered from the same source if Tretij had to guess. The psychic pulled it from the air easily, keeping it hovering just over his hand where he was able to feel the chill of the aluminum.

“I guess I can’t expect you to understand something like this. You’re still only a kid, after all.” He stood proud, the safety seal opening with a small pop and taking a sniff. Tretij was fairly sure he should have been insulted by whatever was said, opening and sipping at his own beverage as he drifted gently down to sit on the bed. “Stay with me, and maybe in a few years you’ll get it-“ Eli started, nonchalant, taking a generous swig from the bottle. Immediately across their connection came alarmed disgust, Tretij nearly leaping up in concern as Eli struggled to swallow. His face had turned a shade of red typically not seen on people, coughing forcefully into the back of his other hand with some intermittent sputtering.

It was the rough string of curses that signaled Tretij that Eli was fine, if a little wounded in his pride, expression twisted in distaste. It was actually rather funny, a hiccup of humor bubbling up in Tretij’s throat and escaping as an odd, choked sound. Eli, still flushed in punishment of his bad decision and wiping at his mouth, glared with all the fight he could muster, which really only made it worse in his disheveled state. The empath tried hard to withhold his judgement but his amusement broke through anyway; small giggles turned into unattractive wheezing, and Eli snatching away his juice to drown out the taste. Tretij couldn’t even be offended, covering his face as he fell back onto pillows, ugly laughter slipping through his fingers.

“Yes yes, finish having your laugh.” Eli rasped, voice still a little hoarse as he massaged his throat. “I’d like to see you try, you wouldn’t manage either!” He pushed the bottle at the psychic as though it were something to prove, Tretij sitting up and taking it lightly between his fingers before Eli spilled it. It didn’t have much of a smell on his examination of it, but what was there was subtly biting, the scent uncomfortably reminiscent of Tretij’s father on the occasions he would come home late in the evening. The sudden reminder of him was jarring, the redhead gripping the cold glass a little too tightly as his humor faded.

“If you aren’t going to drink, then don’t break it. You’ll mess up your fingers even worse.” Eli shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sensing the stark shift in the other’s demeanor as he took back the alcohol and set it aside. Tretij breathed deep, felt oddly shaken by the reminder of what had once been his family, face pale. He didn’t have to look up to know the other boy was trying to find some sort of out for the abrupt change in mood, metal clanking as he picked up a plate. The food had gone a little cold, not that it made it inedible. 

“Come on, you should eat.” Eli shoved a dish of something slathered in sauce under his nose, the smell making Tretij a little nauseated now instead of hungry. He took it regardless, barely picking at it while Eli wolfed his portion down. Trying to give his remainder to the blond earned him a scowl, Eli pointing at him with his fork. “Without that jacket you look like a stiff wind might knock you down, you’re so thin. So you’re going to eat when I eat, and more than two bites, even if I have to shove it down your throat myself.” It was a ridiculous threat, Tretij all but certain Eli wouldn’t do anything except gripe at him should he not follow the order.

Feeling unwell still put a damper on eating however, and forcing it did little to help the nausea permeating every swallow. Even worse was Eli, watching him like a hawk from his chair as if Tretij might trick his way out of this without him noticing. It might have made a nice show of concern if the empath wasn’t feeling so lousy, rubbing idly at his scarred cheek while his plate remained half-full. It seemed Eli finally took pity on him then, taking the remainder for himself so Tretij could drink his juice instead. From their time together Tretij had long since learned Eli didn’t tolerate any wasted food, so it was good that he was always around to cover the empath’s leftovers. He needed it more than Tretij did, anyway.

“What are you so cut up over? You were laughing like an idiot only a second ago.” Eli talked around his food, Tretij’s face screwing up in revulsion at the sight. It wasn’t exactly a deterrent for the behavior, the blond all but sticking out his tongue when he figured it out and smacking his lips just to watch the other cringe. “Seriously? You’re too soft sometimes. No wonder you get moody over every little thing.” He shrugged, fully expecting another wall of silence from what Tretij could see, or maybe just not all that interested. 

“Someone in your family drank, didn’t they? Suppose you didn’t like it all that much, if just a whiff of the stuff makes you clam up.” Eli made a motion with his hand that indicated drinking, sounding rather calm about it. Tretij was actually surprised once he figured out what Eli meant, sparse eyebrows shooting up. “What, you think I’m too daft to figure that much out? You’re about as subtle as the headaches you give me.” He smirked, but there wasn’t any real humor in it. “They were probably a total knob even without the alcohol, I’d wager. Am I wrong?” The question sounded rhetorical, Tretij turning away enough of an answer.

“Thought so. Probably hit you or something, that’s why you’re so… twitchy. Adults really are a bunch of arseholes.” Eli growled, pushing his second now-empty plate to the side with a clatter. Tretij didn’t respond, picking at the edges of his sleeves and curling away from the noise. He didn’t like thinking of his father, much less in a negative light as he had been the death of the man; instead he felt like there was nothing but a chasm in his stomach that swallowed up everything except for his guilt. Eli continued to watch him from the corner of his eye as he pulled off his gloves, puzzling something out over their link.

“It isn’t your fault, Tretij.” He sighed, glancing back at the smaller boy with a serious expression even though his voice had been softer than usual, something hard behind his eyes. The empath wasn’t sure how to decipher that image, returning the stare and waiting, wilted against the pillows. “I mean... I don’t know what happened to you before, but I’m sure you didn't deserve it; whatever someone did to you was because they were the awful one, not you. So don’t feel bad about it." Eli broke eye contact, rolling his shoulders and sliding off his jacket, his mind faraway as if thinking of something else. "You survived it, and it’s behind you now, so you may as well not give them the satisfaction of spending your time dwelling on it.” 

Between them, Tretij was focused on the comfort of the connection having not understood most of what was said. Yet it was still reassuring, somehow, Eli having opened up some small part of himself for just that moment before closing it away again. There was a trust there they didn’t give out easily, vulnerability allowed when hurting one would mean pain to the other. Tretij couldn’t think of any other reason the other boy would be so gentle with him, if not that he understood those same feelings. Tretij replaced his mask to give himself more privacy to think on it when the lights went out and Eli clambered onto his side of the massive bed, weight sinking in to the plush mattress. 

They stayed on separate ends as they had for the last few times they shared a bed, neither daring to come closer without good reason but their minds still softly buzzing in the empty space between. Even though there was so much Tretij didn’t understand, he was starting to feel better anyway, turning onto his side and curling until he felt the scars on his back stretch to the point of discomfort. He could see the silhouette of Eli’s profile in the dark, the slow rise and fall of his chest that might have fooled anyone else into thinking he was asleep even as his thoughts betrayed him to the only other person who could sense them. 

Somewhere between lonely and emboldened Tretij inched his hand across the emptiness between, shyly hooking two fingers over Eli’s and reassured at the way it made him feel less alone. The emotional drain evened itself out, soothed and sleepy enough that he nearly missed the almost imperceptible squeeze back in return. The redhead's grin stayed hidden behind his mask, decidedly warmed.

* * *

Finding a gift to suit Eli was far harder than Tretij initially anticipated; or perhaps it merely seemed harder when his shopping was confined to the hotel. Days of desperate searching had amassed a collection of odd things, none of which seemed like the kind of gift Eli would appreciate; a handful of seashells, an odd piece of metal that looked strange but at least had the design of a snake engraved into it, a stuffed bird with glossy beads for eyes… none of it was good enough, Tretij looking over his hidden stock with a sour face. Eli was practical, and none of these things were practical. If anything they would be dead weight and thrown away at the first opportunity.

Even as the hour drew later on Christmas Eve Tretij was alone, not sure where Eli was yet but still somewhat panicked for time knowing he could be back any minute. Then again, there was no telling when Eli would turn up at all; for Tretij, there really wasn’t much point in waiting if there was something he needed to do. Looking out the window of the hotel he could see the street, rather empty and lit with a soft orange glow, hardly anyone out now that the sun had gone down. They probably had families of their own, places to be and their own gifts in hand.

With that much confirmed, Tretij tapped his fingers on the cold glass, wondered how hard it would be to go on his own to get a gift from somewhere nearby. Certainly there had to be stores that offered something within walking distance if Eli was always bringing things home with him; Tretij could scout them then be back before the other boy ever realized he was missing. The lack of people played perfectly into his favor as well. Holding the dejected little bird in his hand, Tretij put the gifts into his coat pocket on the off chance he needed backups, keeping them hidden and safe as he pulled on his boots and scarf. He was nervous, excited to try something on his own again, shivering with anticipation as he vanished himself beyond the window and down into the street.

The cold hit him first, rustling his hair and taking his breath in a sharp hiss through his scarf as he caught his bearings. The snow on the street had been cleared so that the newest layer was merely a soft crunch under his boots as he walked, heart hammering as voices whispered at him at every corner. Not as bad as he’d feared, but still somewhat unsettling, knowing he would need to move fast and find what he needed and get back. Eli was barely a murmur in the back of his head, comforting to remember the connection but trying not to give it too much attention to keep his plans secret. 

It was no surprise that everything was closed so late on a holiday, darkened storefronts as far as the eye could see. Only streetlights gave him any relief, the occasional car idling by to give a flash of light through the shop windows. He trudged so far his feet ached, cold seeping into his bones until it become painful to flex his fingers, though he remained determined to not come back empty-handed. But there truly was nothing that Tretij could settle on to be good enough for Eli, no clothes or food or gift that he would like that he couldn’t just attain on his own. It was rather disheartening, walking deeper and deeper into the city until he had lost his way and his purpose.

Shivering as he turned, Tretij fought down an initial wave of unease, going back the way he came with a defeated posture. He wouldn’t get lost so long as he kept straight, honing in on Eli’s mind for a frame of reference. He felt far away, although maybe perhaps not all that far now, likely even still out himself. On second look the blond’s stream of thought was a little strange, coming across as slightly anxious although Tretij couldn’t be sure how much of that was what he was reflecting and what he was really thinking. The pull at his mind was small but growing as they got nearer to each other, distracting as Tretij was unable to translate what Eli was feeling.

As involved in that as he became Tretij had failed to notice when there were others until they started overtaking his stride, their minds a sudden and sharp presence when he picked up on their voices. They were calling out before they got too much closer, the psychic glancing back to see two men who were hardly more than shadows stalking at him through the dark, misshapen and monstrous in appearance through Tretij’s frightened eyes. His heart seized in his throat at their silhouettes, uncomprehending of whatever they were saying as he nearly tripped over his own feet in fear. They didn’t seem to be giving off any sort of indication that they would hurt him, but their minds swirled against his nonetheless, noisy and abrasive to the point it drowned out their words.

Even as they stepped into the light, revealing themselves as police whose expressions were clearly concerned for a child wandering alone in the night, it did nothing to calm Tretij’s panic, caught in the terror of how they looked too much like soldiers with their hands outstretched not to help, but to capture him. Eli was much more alert in his head now, notes of worry and anger and confusion singing through the static to give him something to latch onto. There was only a thought to fight or flee, Tretij settling on the latter as he stumbled back, a pop of energy and smoke at his disbursement as he honed himself in on Eli.

Teleportation remained an imperfect art, not so much landing near the blond as he did crash into him in a flurry of limbs and alarm, wheezing as he hit and felt the wind nearly knocked out of him. Eli was no more prepared for it than the redhead, dropped onto the frosty sidewalk and immediately ready for a fight, grabbing at Tretij’s coat only to freeze when he realized what had happened. The smaller boy was lying wide-eyed across his stomach, holding tight with cold fingers and still projecting every fear-laced heartbeat between them. It was enough to give him a breather before being shoved off rather unceremoniously, rolling onto his side and wrapping his arms around his middle as Eli stood.

“The Hell is wrong with you? What are you even doing out here?” Eli was growling, rubbing at the back of his head where there was a lingering soreness. Tretij avoided his eyes, fingers numbed to the point he couldn’t feel them even as they dug into his clothes; his head felt like it would split in two, stuck between himself and Eli. “You should have stayed in the room, if you can’t handle being outside by yourself!” He scolded, Tretij whimpering in reply as the negativity washed over him. It was hard enough to not feel like garbage with his heart in his throat before Eli set to add on to it by treating him like a disobedient child. The blond’s impatience turned to exasperation as he was subjected to the headache growing between them.

“Ugh, just stop the sniveling and get up. I’m freezing and I don’t want to stand here any longer than I have to.” Eli sniffed, looking down the street to make sure they were really alone before pulling at the hood of the smaller boy’s coat. Tretij struggled to his feet as the pounding in his head slowly wore itself down, the clink of seashells falling from his pocket catching his attention as they tumbled onto the sidewalk. He picked them up as quickly as his stiff fingers allowed, Eli looming over him with a brush of curiosity for what he was doing. His shadow falling back over the other was Tretij’s only warning before he squatted next to him.

“What’s that? Did you steal something?” He grabbed a shell from the ground before the redhead could get to it, a dismayed cry through his scarf that went ignored as Eli stood and held it up to the light. The colors appeared muted and shifted as they did when Tretij wore his mask, not the true brilliance he knew them to be. It probably looked pitiful, the empath biting back his disappointment as Eli examined it with no discernable feeling. When he palmed it and looked back, his eyes were shining in the dim evening light. “So is this why you were freaking out? You made a stupid decision over a few lousy seashells?” He was scoffing, and Tretij shook his head, impressing the memory of how he had been walking alone when he was startled.

Before Eli could comment further, Tretij decided his efforts might have well been for naught, discouraged from this whole adventure as he turned out his pockets and handed over the rest of his meager spoils. The blond seemed surprised for the smaller boy to push all the shells into his hands, reaching back for the bird and the metal block when Eli’s mind sputtered in confusion against his own. “You just happened to have all these? Why are you giving them to me?” He questioned, holding them out as if they were dangerous. Tretij stopped, thoughtful but embarrassed, as he remembered the Christmas tree in the hotel and the glittering yet empty decoration boxes beneath.

“This is… a gift. A Christmas gift.” Eli deadpanned, not exactly impressed with the idea. Even with his heart sinking Tretij realized he hadn’t quite expected much else, pulling the dusty toy and metal from his pocket as his next offerings. The blond pocketed the shells to take them, clearly uninterested in the bird but looking with clear curiosity at the shining steel, fingernails digging into the grooves as he examined it. Tretij was still radiating his apologies for being so troublesome, body language withdrawn even when Eli was no longer focused on him. The redhead saw why he had been so attentive to his last gift when it pried apart with a soft click, a blade revealed sliding out with the two ends twirling back.

“A balisong… Where did you get this?” Eli spoke with a tone of hushed pleasure, running his finger over the edge of the knife to test its sharpness. Tretij didn’t say anything, only just peeking over the edge of his scarf. “Good quality too… They’re not exactly easy to get ahold of in a lot of places. Whoever you took this from is probably livid that it’s missing.” He grinned, twisting the handle and blade in a way that looked far too dangerous, yet was mesmerizing to watch. He stopped after a moment to return it to its resting state, folding the handles together and turning it over in his hand. Tretij was relieved to sense that he was happy with at least one of his gifts, though his smirk faded when he glanced back at the other boy.

“…look, I appreciate the gesture but I… It’s not like I bothered to get anything for you. I’ve not exactly celebrated Christmas in the past.” Eli led them back toward the hotel, Tretij sticking close to his side as the blond slipped the knife into his pocket. “For me a holiday was only good because it meant nobody was forcing me to do any drills, usually. That was the only present I got. And the only gift I was giving anyone else back then was a black eye or a bullet hole, if I could have managed it.” His smile was bitter, Tretij subconsciously resting his fingers on the blond’s wrist as they walked for a sense of comfort. He could tell this wasn’t something Eli would have talked about normally, perhaps feeling a bit guilty for having not considered that the empath would have reached out like this as a symbol of friendship. 

“I suppose it’s not much of a gift, but I’ll show you what I’ve been looking for lately. Maybe you’ll like it.” Eli stopped to pull something out of his pocket, a crumpled paper that was difficult to see in the streetlights and impossible to read for Tretij. The psychic figured he must have been talking about what the paper was entailing rather than the sheet itself, a picture of a train on the bottom so heavily inked that it barely looked better than a thick, black blob. Tretij smoothed it out between his hands, glancing up at Eli in curiosity and confusion.

“It’s from a travel agency. It’s a travel package, for trips that go out east.” He explained, his face softened in the street light as he tapped it. “I wasn’t kidding around before, when I said I don’t really care where we go so long as it’s livable. And if we’re going to stick together, then we have to learn how to speak to each other, so it seemed like going to Czechoslovakia was the best way. Immersion and all that.” He shrugged as if the decision was merely a natural progression of things and not the massive uprooting and undertaking that it was, Tretij wide-eyed as he caught on to what Eli was implying, eyes darting between the flier and the other boy.

“I would have brought it up sooner, but I didn’t know how possible it would be. It won’t be easy. I think the best way to get anywhere is sneaking onto a passenger train and making them think we’re with another touring family… Should be simple, you can convince people of anything.” Eli continued on, heedless to how Tretij was still clenching the paper, interest at going back to his home country marred by uncertainty that bubbled up. What if he was rediscovered? It was possible that nobody was even looking for an escaped psychic, but he couldn’t help but worry for his and Eli’s safety when both and he and the other boy were volatile at the best of times. There was no telling what this sort of move would bring for either of them, together and separate.

“…What, do you not want to go back?” Eli finally started to catch on to the smaller boy’s distress, watching Tretij shiver out in the snow for a reason besides the cold. The empath wouldn’t look up, didn’t know how to share his fears; if he wasn’t such a potential hazard he would of course want Eli to be able to pick up his language so they could talk, but this… This seemed like it could go very wrong if they weren’t careful, and Tretij felt like he needed to protect the blond, especially when it came to his own home country. There was also the chance that once they learned to communicate, Eli might rethink his decision to stay, if he didn’t like what Tretij had to say. Nobody else ever had, after all.

“It won’t be forever, I can pick up anything fast. I bet in a year I’ll speak it as fluently as you.” Eli explained further, taking the paper from Tretij and putting it back in his coat. “Well, as fluently as I’m sure you would if you spoke at all. It would be better if you talked, but I can learn it on my own.” He was rather proud of that, and Tretij didn’t see any reason for him not to be; he had taught himself how to speak to others in Africa by observation, so it stood to reason he would need Tretij’s help even less in Czechoslovakia to get by. Even here he took off on his own without Tretij and rarely asked for help with German, proving there was little he needed the empath around for at all.

“Don’t think you’re getting off scot-free just because I’m learning Czech. You still have to learn English too.” Eli’s stern voice cut through the fretfulness in Tretij’s mind, the blond crossing his arms as if he expected resistance to that idea. Instead the empath was watching him curiously, prying slightly into the other’s head to determine why his mood had shifted; Eli was putting on a strange air, almost like embarrassment to be watched so closely. When he breathed out the air caught in front of his face like a soft cloud, lips pressed together as he weighed his next words. “I mean… if we’re supposed to be partners, then I’m not going to be the one doing all the legwork here.”

It took a moment for Tretij to understand, happy but still tentative when he realized what Eli was saying. Despite his less-than-amicable behavior, Eli really did seem to care, on some level, about keeping the other boy around; Tretij remained the last person Eli could trust not to leave him, and that meant Tretij could trust Eli to stay by his side too, even when there was no overarching scheme to be had. The empath’s creeping eagerness must have been palpable over their link, reaching out to touch Eli’s hand and radiating his satisfaction to the point Eli had to look away, frowning and self-conscious for the way Tretij clung to him. 

“You don't have to hold my hand, you know. I'm not a child.” Eli groused at him, putting up a prickly exterior and shaking off the other boy though he remained calmer beneath, relaxing and letting the pleasant energy flow between them before turning to walk. Tretij wasn’t offended as he stayed close enough to be able to feel the twinge of Eli's embarrassment, but he still couldn’t be free of that same apprehension of following Eli all the way to his home country on the other’s whim. It wasn’t so much a question of if things would go wrong but when, wondering how much they could get away with in a place so heavily watched. They may have fought off armies before, but this was a different beast entirely.

“Come on. If you stop dragging your feet we might get back to the hotel before they throw away all the leftover dinner stuff.” Eli gestured with his chin in the direction they were headed, picking up the pace while Tretij trotted alongside. The empath didn’t put a hand on him again, but at the same instance didn’t feel like it was entirely necessary now either. Tretij felt plenty close without it, sighing and torn between tension and anticipation behind his scarf as bells chimed in the distance, the snow picking up in a gentle flurry to cover their footprints in peaceful silence.

* * *

Riding on the train, something Tretij hadn't experienced before, had seemed so much more fun in theory before they were actually on it, far from comfortable within its confines and more than passingly chilly in the late January air. Eli had orchestrated their plan to sneak aboard at the station after weeks of careful plotting, handled easily enough when there were few people daring to cross the Iron Curtain at all; those on the train seemed pleasant if very quiet, reading or knitting or a variety of things that made the two boys stick out painfully obvious. The youngest people in the group appeared to be in their twenties, with few aged enough to make it seem like they could be parents to children in their early teens.

“Change of plans,” Eli had whispered when they returned to their compartment to be alone after they had scouted the others, face lit in gold from the sun lowering outside of the window. He leaned in close, conspiratorial in his methods. “You’ll just have to hide us; we can’t blend in with anyone here. You can do the same thing you did on Base before, can’t you?” He pressed a hand to his own forehead, Tretij able to feel the nervousness and exhaustion alongside the memory of the redhead sitting, entirely unnoticed, alongside him in the helicopter. He was certain he could, a short incline of his head. 

“Good. I don’t know how… rigorous… this will be, so it’s best to be prepared for anything. Especially since we have no passports or papers on us.” Eli admitted, and it was then that the unsettled line between them both truly deepened, Tretij mirroring the other boy as he realized just what sort of opposition they could be facing should he fail. His breath quickened with a slow wave of panic, shorted before it could further by Eli grasping his elbow and shoving at his mind with a confidence fostered from years of living riskily. 

“It’ll be fine. Between the two of us we’re more than clever enough to best whatever they can dish out.” The blond was grinning, but it was still wary and on edge as darkness progressed, his hand slipping down Tretij’s arm before retreating. In their cabin they took shifts sleeping though it was far from restful, startled by every noise and jolt. They sat across from one another for room to spread out, though Eli was the one who was doing all the spreading, flipping his balisong mindlessly while Tretij curled up against the window. In truth he would have preferred to sit together, for heat and comfort and particularly to seek an out from the headache he was dealing with, instead stifling an odd feeling of melancholic loneliness as the dark dragged on in the outside world.

The hour Tretij couldn’t guess, but by his estimate it had to have been very early when the scenery began to change, towers suddenly appearing on the other side of the window as if conjured from nothing more than the emptiness around them. The psychic could feel the shift in emotion on the train, distress swelling as they doubtlessly were closing in on the border and the final, most rigorous checkpoint before they were in Czechoslovakia proper. Eli had been dozing before but the mental jump brought him around fully in seconds, tired eyes red as he looked about. They were gradually slowing now, bright lights in the distance heralding their border stop.

“Tretij, look at me.” Eli’s voice was gravelly with sleep but his face was deadly serious, impressing upon their shared connection to make his demand known. The empath could barely tear himself away from the window, fearful and coiling even tighter about himself but keeping his wide gaze on the other boy’s face. “Why are you so worried? They’re no different than anyone else.” Eli sat up, watching closely and curious as to what exactly was going on; Tretij could feel him pressing on their link, looking for some other meaning. Tretij would rather have not remembered the sort of Russian officials he had to deal with previously, noisy minds harsh and consuming of his psyche, but the questioning search was too much to turn away.

Burying his face into his palms and shivering with loathing, Tretij didn’t see Eli nabbing their bag and withdrawing his mask from within as the train swayed, a gloved hand tugging away the empath’s scarf as the blond vied for his attention. When Tretij looked up his mask was hastily pushed on, startled as the voices dimmed suddenly and blessedly. Tretij was more shocked that Eli was putting it on for him, tightening the straps quickly as if he had done it many times before as the redhead held the nose filter in his quaking hands.

“If they aren’t going to see us, it doesn’t matter what you look like.” Eli explained hurriedly, knowing that they were close enough now that it was time to be worried if Tretij couldn’t perform. “Is that better?” He bent down to ask, Tretij’s eyes hidden behind the orange glass and not easy to see as the smaller boy swallowed heavily. While he did feel better than he had before, he was still so nervous that his body and power felt frail and ill-controlled, a small nod and measured breaths hissing through the mask as a weak answer. Eli clicked his tongue, bracing against the wall as the train finally stopped. 

Outside there was yelling, the physical sound of it enough to put them both on alert as the train was opened for boarding. The others no doubt were preparing to have all their belongings searched, paperwork scrutinized and questioned within an inch of their lives, forced off the train entirely so that each cabin could be taken apart and inspected to be absolutely sure nothing unwanted was coming in with them. There was no telling how long the process would take, but it would be difficult for Tretij to stay mentally balanced with so much chaos. 

Eli had popped his head out of the cabin to see what the others were doing, holdall slung over his shoulder before pulling the smaller boy to stand beside him. The blond felt, to Tretij’s mind, to be the only bastion of calm in an otherwise tumultuous sea, clinging to him and biting back nausea as Eli held him steady by his shoulders. Tretij could tell Eli was trying to communicate something, vocally and mentally, needing them shielded from the search on penalty of being arrested. With his mask returned it didn’t feel like the impossible request it might have been before, the empath still shivering as he was dragged along to file out of the car with the rest. 

Sticking close together made it easier to keep them unnoticed, even the other travelers who had likely seen the boys wandering around not looking for them now as they stood and waited on the drafty platform. Tretij couldn’t help but be drawn into all the activity going on, the whole of it nerve-wracking; it left his concentration wavering in apprehension born from his own thoughts more so than the ones of anyone else. It wasn’t long before, standing apart and curled in on himself, Tretij found each stranger pulling at his psyche as his mind naturally expanded in curiosity; he had almost been drawn out of his protective trance and begun to fall away had Eli not drew the smaller boy in tight against him, warmth detectable to Tretij’s cold grasp even though layers of cloth.

“Focus,” Eli hissed directly into his ear, the way he kept the psychic in place pushing the filter of his mask into the taller boy’s shoulder. “I’m the only one you should be concerned with; if I don’t make it, you won’t, either.” The way he growled it felt like there was a threat nestled under his words, fingers digging in as he constricted so tightly that Tretij felt he could barely breathe. He hadn't expected Eli to become so overwhelming so suddenly, the other boy digging in tooth and nail to usurp any other thought Tretij could have, phantom sensations of memory and the heat of another person close to his chest conflicting with the chill of night seeping in like a dull ache.

Twisting his head aside offered Tretij minimally more comfort, almost able to think of this strange hold as an embrace in his otherwise fuzzy mind. Eli was doing well enough to stir up a desire to protect, reminders of what was at stake floating behind Tretij’s eyes and making him grit his teeth with his mental shields raised. Tretij only ever wanted what he assumed most other people did - home, love, and a real family - instead of being driven mad or forced into psychic servitude, one hand tentatively raised and plucking at the rough material of Eli’s coat as he thought back to the other boy’s claim of partnership, realizing that for the foreseeable future, Eli was as good as he was going to get on all those counts. 

It wasn’t even that Eli was particularly awful at filling those niches, already far better at promoting and maintaining Tretij’s health more than anyone else in his life had; Tretij wouldn’t call Eli family, and there really wasn’t much affection to be had between them, yet the empath still trailed at the blond’s heels as his only definition left of something like home, a consistent and safe base to return to. If they remained as each other’s only true companions, Tretij sincerely believed he could be happy with that much, knowing things could change well enough over time; the both of them could remain blockaded from the outside world as they were now, with Tretij’s eyes hidden and his mind coiled around Eli’s, the other boy silently snarling at strangers with a sharp twist of his lip and a feral flash of teeth. He could trust Eli to keep him safe, even at the times he didn't trust himself.

Lost in his trance, Tretij was startled by the rough bark of a soldier come to let them all back into the train, a notice which was met with sighs of relief from everyone else, the rustle of cloth and the creak of bones as their group broke apart. Eli had kept his gaze up, never having let his guard down while the redhead was pushing away all other thoughts from their persons, and thus wasn’t startled or relieved so much as he was still stoically waiting as if the man might change his mind. He didn’t even look at Tretij to know whether or not he was conscious of what was going on, a mild tug on their mental connection before Eli loosened his hold enough to guide the smaller boy in front as they joined the end of the line into the train once more.

Safely stowed back in their cabin, Tretij let his mind relax slowly, the strain of nervousness still leaving an ache in his belly as Eli tossed his holdall onto the seat he had been using before. Sitting down by Tretij instead of keeping his space was unusual, the empath watching him from the corner of his lens as he drew his knees to his chest and turned away, under so many layers of clothing that he felt sluggish. Eli was watching him with his mouth drawn as tight as the mental link between them, evidently having been tense about the stop as well in his own way, though it was beginning to recede once the train moved on with a squeal of the tracks.

“See, it really was nothing to worry yourself over.” Eli started, gradually spreading in his spot until his side was against Tretij’s, making the smaller boy feel slightly claustrophobic as if pinned to the wall. “You could control that massive robot with your mind but you get worked up over some weak-minded adults? I really don’t get it.” He snorted, flinging his arm across the back of the seat. The other boy was practically floating as he pulled away, sensitive to such closeness after having been so nervous, wound tight and ready to fire at any possible threat. The hand at his back reeled him down before he could truly lift off, returned to his spot with Eli’s palm over his bicep.

“Sit.” Eli commanded, but he didn’t sound angry or upset, a twinge of consideration for something unknown filling the space in their link. Tretij still refused to look at the other, hand touching his mask filter with a soft hiss of breath, reassurance that he was still safe, held together by his own will and Eli’s. The blond casually slid his hand up to tug at a strap, smirking at the jerk of Tretij’s head that it bought him, the empath pulling away and upset until the other boy splayed his fingers over the side of his skull and pulled him back in. Even with his barrier Tretij felt vulnerable with his head resting against Eli’s shoulder, a wave of gentle calm wiggling into his consciousness.

“You should sleep before we get to the last stop. You’ll be useless if you’re as much of a mess as you are now.” Eli’s nails dragged lightly down the line of Tretij’s mask strap, the redhead shivering as he eased into the touch. He wasn’t so oblivious not to see that Eli was pulling the same trick he had once before, using this proximity to make Tretij feel comforted and safe, shorting out his fretfulness like a surge of electricity to his brain. It was a reminder of their partnership, to think that Eli could have used Tretij like Volgin or Skull Face, instead desiring to provide a balance so the smaller boy could rest unhindered. It was a welcome respite.

Tretij wasn’t sure for how long he slept, fading in and out of consciousness curled into Eli’s side. Warmed and supported, he was sure he felt the ghosting of fingers stroking over his scalp and along the line of his mask, lulling him into remaining pleasantly sleepy until Eli’s mind jumped in alertness. Blurred by the tint of his lenses, Tretij could see the strange light of dawn creeping into the sky, unfamiliar buildings illuminated by streetlights, the sight evoking some deep-rooted feeling of nostalgia even so. He supposed they must have finally arrived in Prague, the previous apprehension of being back in his home country settling heavy in his stomach as he turned enough to see the gray dawn catching in Eli’s gaze, staring out of the window as if looking for something himself.

Getting off here wasn’t quite so monitored yet Tretij knew he needed to slip off his mask for walking around the city, Eli pulling away to let him take it off himself, the blond placing it in their bag and winding Tretij’s scarf back around the sleepy boy’s face. The world outside was gloomy as though they were wrapped in a layer of perpetual fog as they stood out in it with the tourists, a smell in the air as if a rain had recently passed as they trudged, presumably, to a hotel. Tretij kept his hold on Eli’s sleeve, swerving sleepy and tranquil with his head soft like it was filled with cotton. Eli’s thoughts were still there on the edge of his own, presses of cool steel making themselves known without cutting through the din. 

The empath felt outside of himself, almost, held anchored to Eli but drawn out by murmurs of a language he finally understood picking at his brain and drawing his attention. His hands shook where he tightened his grip, afraid to drift away and become lost in a sea of new voices, burying back into the other boy’s mind before he forgot his purpose. Eli didn’t seem to notice, though he broke Tretij’s hold in order to loop their arms together, more contact and keeping the psychic in line at his side. The redhead was exhausted and hypersensitive, all too happy to see the tourist hotel and leaning into Eli as the blond led them away from the group once they were in the lobby; Tretij wasn’t sure the others saw them, having not actively been trying to keep their notice away, but even now they didn’t turn to look at the runaways as the pair found and took off to get their own room.

There was a sense Eli wasn’t impressed by the accommodations, especially following their long stint in such a nice place before. It was at least a step up from the hotel in Africa, Tretij digging out his mask while Eli did his usual inspections and barricaded the door. It would only be temporary, anyway, until they could find another place to go; Tretij wasn’t all that certain they could remain in the city if housing was as hard to come by as he remembered it being, and living in a hotel forever and stressing about moving rooms and being kicked out wasn’t favorable. He couldn’t be sure how much Eli knew, but getting out of Prague to safer harbors should be their first order of business. Once he figured how to communicate as much, Tretij would be glad to find a semi-permanent residence out of a city patrolled by people who set his hair on end and his control haywire. 

“Doesn’t sound like anyone is coming up this way,” Eli broke Tretij’s tired concentration from where he stood with his ear to the door, looking to where the empath was floating just above the grungy carpet, too out of it to even have considered taking off his outer layers as he usually did. Eli was pulling off his boots and jacket with a scowl, irritated with the chill in the room as the heater clunked noisily and barely dragged itself to life. “We should sleep, not like it’s a great idea to go exploring in the daylight to start. You’re barely awake as is.” He accused, reaching over to tug at Tretij’s scarf to make his point before turning away to create his usual nest in the bed while the redhead mentally pulled off his shoes and coat only to lay them in a heap in the floor along with Eli’s things. 

Although the bed had enough room for them both, Tretij had barely gotten under the covers before he was hoisted against the other boy, far warmer in the niche he had made than the cold sheets he had initially settled into. He could read over their link that Eli's exhaustion was the main reason for such an unabashed move, the cold outweighing a veneer of pride. It was exceedingly uncomfortable, his neck craned so as to not smack his filters into Eli’s face as the other boy huffed in irritation and pushed the mask muzzle so that it lay in the crook of his shoulder. Tretij certainly didn’t have to be psychic to know Eli would have preferred he take it off, weighing the option as best as he could before deciding that like this, the blond’s mind would be fine to shelter him from outside thoughts. 

Eli didn’t try to pull him back when Tretij sat up, shivering fingers aided by his power to undo the straps he had only put on a few minutes prior. When he sat it aside he could feel the other’s eyes on him but didn’t mind as much as he once had, too tired or used to it by now to feel anything particular as his eyes adjusted to the world without the hint of orange. It was more unusual to have Eli rest his hand on the empath’s arm, silent instruction passed between as Tretij looked down at where the other boy was still wrapped up in layers of blankets. Tretij was sure he understood then, the trust that this gesture implied when he was doing it for Eli’s sake, for the sake of his partner.

“It’ll be fine.” Eli watched the redhead closely, a brief squeeze in his grip before falling away. “I’ve got a plan; we’ll find a place for ourselves, and I’ll learn Czech and teach you English, maybe even other stuff too… it’ll be the closest to something normal I’ve lived in… ever.” Eli snorted his bitter laugh into the pillow, his face all angles of shadow with the scarce light of a new day slipping through the closed curtains. Tretij didn’t quite understand but he nodded anyway, felt the hair raise on his arms from the chill as he reached down to brush the back of his hand lightly over Eli’s hairline in a gesture like acceptance. The blond didn’t rebuff him as he thought he might, whether out of exhaustion or complacency Tretij didn’t know. 

Scarred lips pressed together in a tight line, a soft grumble behind them and a wheeze of air as Tretij struggled to control his emotions, thoughts of gratitude marred by worry and tamped down with fatigue. Still Tretij struggled to express himself as he really wanted to, lips parting and voice croaking with hesitation to control itself into anything recognizable. It had been so long since he had last tried to use his voice that it made his throat ache, watching Eli’s brows furrow in concern as the empath swallowed back his nervousness to rasp out Eli’s name. 

The blond’s reaction was about what Tretij expected, surprised but frozen in place, a minute twitch of his fingers the biggest physical indication that he was aware of what Tretij had said at all. Tretij shuddered to feel that press of attention heavy in his head, a mix of pleasure and pride as he tried a few more times with increasing degrees of accuracy to say the other’s name correctly as his thin voice wavered in determination. Even if it were foolish Tretij wondered if Eli found it endearing in its own way, the blond finally cutting him off with a pull to his elbow that indicated he understood and was beckoning Tretij to lie back down.

“I didn’t realize you were saving up your voice for a special occasion.” Eli quipped, Tretij not drawing back in against the other as he pulled the blanket to his chin. The empath felt his face heat up in embarrassment, an uneven burn under his skin as punishment for his hoarse blabbering. Eli didn’t appear to be so affected. “Don’t worry so much about what you sound like, it doesn’t matter. If you can talk that’s good enough.” Eli gave a half-shrug as best he could laying down, turning to rest on his back instead of facing the other boy. 

Tretij watched him for a moment, eyes bright in the dim light of the room with the cold seeping in before he closed the gap. Presumptuous though it was, he was happy to leech off of Eli’s body heat, bare face buried thankfully against the blond’s shoulder. Those feelings of contentment remained between them, Tretij all but purring with it as his unshielded mind absorbed it all; Eli had found it to be somewhat amusing, tugging on their shared exhaustion to beckon Tretij to follow.

“Go to sleep, Tretij.” Eli yawned, and Tretij nodded, shy smile pressed into Eli’s shirt as he mumbled a few more words into the soft material before settling down enough to let himself relax, following Eli into sleep.

_“Eli… Díky.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say this chapter on notes! The Steigenberger is a real hotel in Frankfurt, and it does look quite nice. Nowadays a lot of people in Germany, especially in customer service, seem to be able to speak passable English, but for this time it may have been a little harder to get by without knowing German. We can just pretend, anyway...
> 
> You might know the balisong as butterfly or gravity knives - UK law specifically refers to them as balisongs, so I figured that was the term Eli would use for one. Fun to play with so long as you don't cut up your hands!
> 
> The next chapters will see us moving ahead in time a bit faster than we have been, thank goodness


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, apologies for not updating for so long! When I first started this, my plan was to update once a month, however real life started having another say in the matter... 
> 
> I originally wasn't going to post this until I finished off the entirety of this section and it was going to be one chapter together, but as it's grown longer and longer I realize it would be better separated since otherwise it would be massive. With any luck I'll have the next chapter up within the next week or two, since I've already completed part of it. I'd hate to continue sitting on this part though, so here it is!

The pair left Prague as aimless as they had arrived, hardly a week after the train had come in. There was no point staying in the city, the presence of the Soviet guides and soldiers watching from every corner far too much for Tretij to withstand for any longer; it was easy to get on another train, heading west into less densely populated areas and back toward the places Tretij could remember from what felt like a lifetime ago, holding tight to Eli for an ounce of comfort he was finding difficult to grasp these days. Eli had said that he should feel at home here, returned to a place where he knows the language and customs, but if anything Tretij felt more anxious than ever, drained in a way he couldn’t communicate.

It hadn’t taken terribly long to settle on a place to stay, Rokycany lying at the end of their tracks and well suited to their needs, with a city center easy enough to get around for necessities without having to worry overly much about someone becoming suspicious of two unattended boys. There was an obvious up-and-coming vibe from the city they could feel as they set down their roots, older homes vacated and set to be demolished to make way for the new concrete housing structures that Tretij found cold and uninviting; even if it wasn’t modern, he breathed a sigh of relief when Eli scouted an abandoned home far from the _sidliste_ neighborhoods in town. It looked like it may have once been a farmhouse before it had become completely overgrown within the woods, still in decent enough shape that it was likely emptied within the last decade as everyone wanted to abandon the traditional architecture for something that might be seen as more becoming of their status. It made him melancholy in a way he couldn’t quite figure out, the sense of neglect settling in his bones too.

Tretij was surprised how quickly even a place like this could begin to feel like home. He and Eli had found there was no shortage of things to do to make it a more comfortable living space, keeping themselves occupied by fixing what was broken to the best of their abilities and cleaning out years of dirt and decay in a matter of weeks. It was almost a rather respectable place when they finished, certainly nicer than it had been with enough privacy for them both to live contentedly out of the cold. Tretij found that Eli wasn’t the sort to stay idle for long however, no sooner having finished one project before moving on to the next as if he couldn’t bear to not have something to do. After their constant adventuring and the stress of the past year Tretij would have liked at least a little time to recuperate without Eli dragging him along for this or that, but he supposed he couldn’t be too upset if it meant Eli had need of him.

As much as Tretij worried over it initially, Eli didn’t push him as hard as he expected he might, more concerned initially with keeping them alive than with forcing Tretij to work on talking or teaching him Czech. After his initial outburst Tretij still couldn’t manage more than a few words at any one time, stuttering and almost entirely impossible for Eli to understand. He knew it would get easier in time, with more practice and without the pressure he had grown accustomed to living under forcing him faster than he could manage, though the guilt of needing to take his time while Eli worked tirelessly on his own projects made him want to try to match pace. As winter finally gave way to spring he was doing well enough speaking short sentences and words to supplement his thoughts, stumbling over the English Eli would teach him and doing his best to enunciate the Czech equivalents in return. It was far from perfect for either of them, but it proved a workable system for the present.

Eli picked up Czech far faster than Tretij picked up English as he was immersed in it, most of Tretij’s initial assistance not coming from learned words or conjugations, but instead sharing what little knowledge of reading and writing it his father had bothered imparting to him. Watching Eli write in English had been enthralling in its own way, his lettering more delicate and flowing than Tretij’s sharp, untrained and jagged lines; the more time he spent with the blond the more Tretij could see that he really was in his element leading and teaching, Tretij hooked on the feeling of achievement and pride that came with Eli’s approval of his mastering a lesson. He knew Eli had no use for someone so uneducated and it gave him meaning to throw himself into these studies, imagining it to be like the school lessons he had been denied to attend.

While Eli may have scoffed at the usefulness of the books he stole to use as teaching aids for their painfully Soviet tilt, they still proved well enough for practice, both boys spending the hottest parts of the afternoon in summer shoulder to shoulder in the shade, the link between their minds buzzing as they worked out each sentence, taking turns reading and translating back and forth until they grew tired; there was so much less uncertainty between the pair now, enough ability between them both to communicate basic needs or desires, though Tretij usually preferred to do so mentally than vocalize despite Eli’s insistence. They had begun to reach an equilibrium where they were more or less understood, with only more complex subjects still a work in progress.

Basic though it was, Tretij still found himself uncertain of what their future would be the more that they learned about each other’s languages and by extension, each other’s personal histories. From what Tretij had glimpsed from brief connections, nightmares or associations that splayed out into his own head when Eli wasn’t careful, he could tell the blond had as rough a past as he had expected from someone as resourceful and aggressive as Eli. He had taken his pains and shaped them into his own weapons, something the empath could admire when he had spent so long terrified of his own power. Eli only seemed marginally tempered by this domestic sort of life, aggression thrumming close under the surface looking for some meaning or outlet that he piled onto Tretij in the form of teaching. 

And it was his deference that made Tretij pause, close himself off where he had the mind to do so; Eli had called them partners, but it had been long before they really knew each other, and even now they only had the barest of understandings into each other’s selves. Eli didn’t bother to ask more complicated questions of Tretij than he could sufficiently handle with words, and Tretij’s questions to Eli were only ever answered as clipped as possible, the answers from both a jumble of mostly meaningless information over time concerning personal likes and dislikes, living schedules and education. They didn’t speak of each other’s outbursts nor liked to pry into pasts hidden behind layers of disquiet they’d rather forget, the crying in the night and the restless wandering of children who had seen too much to ever feel comfortable, holding tight to one another to assuage some sickening memory without either able to discuss it. 

Tretij was afraid, for the sorts of things he had seen and lived, the sorts of things Eli might be disgusted with, turn his back on. They weren’t so different, but who could bear to live with a shadow of themselves floating along at their backs, a boy as messed up on the outside as the inside, unable to divulge his thoughts without fear of rejection and loathing. Nobody in his life before he had become this way had ever wanted to hear him speak, wanted to know his feelings or passions or cared about the psychic beyond what use he had, and his use was not in sharing the paltry musings of an idiotic mind. Even Eli, at least initially, only gave him the time of day because he was useful to his revenge. It was only natural to crave approval from someone idolized, but Tretij remained anxious of what could come from getting too close.

It was easier to let himself be molded as Eli saw fit without complaint, basking in the attention when given but not daring to seek it out when the blond attended to his own projects, like he was this afternoon, Tretij sitting alone on the floor by the window and turning over the row of seashells Eli had lined up on the windowsill, admiring their colors in the light of the early afternoon. The psychic had been surprised when Eli had put them there, believing that he had thrown them out ages ago; instead they remained as little remarks of a connection, a fumbling first attempt at forging a bond deeper than survival. It brought to mind the associated words Eli had given him in English to practice, ocean, sand, waves; mangled on his stiff tongue and hardly recognizable for what they were, despite his efforts to make something like sentences with them.

In the back of his mind he could feel Eli stirring inquisitively, never so far off that Tretij risked losing mental sight of him but instead letting the other boy fade into a quiet and comfortable lull in the back of his head while he had been out making sure their home was still properly reinforced against intruders and checking the animal traps. He’d be irritated Tretij wasn’t studying properly but there was little to be done about it now, the empath looking out the window over the seashells, one hand scratching at the heavy hair that clung stubbornly to his skin with sweat. It was hardly all that warm here, especially by comparison to Afghanistan or Africa, but self-consciously covering his skin trapped the heat against him, leaving it feeling foreign and itchy and tight over his bones. Getting his hair off his neck was hardly enough to keep him cool, especially in the stale air of the house.

Eli, of course, had no such reservations about wearing or not wearing whatever he liked, the lack of shame frustrating to Tretij as he lay sweltering. He could sense Eli gearing up for some sort of admonishment for being lazy though it oddly died on the approach with the croak of the front door, Tretij turning from the glass to see where Eli was waiting behind him, arms crossed and streaked with dirt from wandering in the woods. In the relatively short time they had been in Czechoslovakia he had only continued to fill out handsomely while Tretij dwindled behind, hidden from the world in his mask and several layers of clothes when he could help it. There may have been a time when the empath would have wondered if he was jealous of Eli’s confidence but now he was sure his irritation lay firmly in being overheated and exhausted.

“You haven’t cut your hair at all since we met, have you?” Eli brushed his own back from his face, the greasy locks a little longer than they once were but still fairly neat and tidy despite Eli’s tendency to hack at them with scissors. Tretij’s own had never lain so obediently flat in his life, an awkward shag about his face and neck these days, a mix of tight curls and copper waves. Still, it was something of a nuisance to deal with, the kind that broke brushes and took far too long to wash and dry when that luxury was afforded to them. Tretij shook his head to the question and Eli hummed thoughtfully, plucking at a few frizzy strands with his fingers as he stepped in closer with a squeak of the dusty floorboards.

“I can cut it for you, if you’d like. Seems a bit like you could use it.” Eli smirked when Tretij batted his hand away, growing more bold to reinforcing his personal space these days, keeping that distance he had built for his own safety. It wasn’t that he even minded Eli being close, but the blond knew full well he could be irritating, especially when he only resumed the offending gesture. “C’mon then, if you’re interested you’ll have to actually tell me what you want. English, too.” He slid his fingers through the thicket of hair, pulling it this way and that. “If you’d like to be cooler, I could just shave it all off… I don’t have any proper clippers though.”

“Eli…” Tretij grumbled, his voice soft but gravelly in warning. The other boy’s name was still the easiest thing for the psychic to say, and he found himself saying it a lot, typically because Eli’s behavior demanded it. Eli snorted, amused, though he let go and waited with an expectant look for Tretij to do more than that. It took a little more time for the redhead to figure out how to say what he wanted, chewing at his lip and stumbling quietly through words he knew until he had it, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve as he mumbled, “Give a haircut, please, Eli.”

“Give _me_ a haircut, please, Eli.” The blond amended, no ill intent in his tone though Tretij still disliked being corrected in that almost haughty way, frown growing more pronounced. If Eli understood him, then that was all that was needed anyway, as far as he was concerned. “In English you still have to use the subject even if you have context. Just because I know what you meant doesn’t mean everyone else will; I have the added advantage of knowing what’s going on in your head, after all.” He was still dragging his hands through Tretij’s hair as he said it, catching the occasional snag in the thick coils and teasing them apart. It could have been nice if not for the pulling. “Anyway… _Hodnej_ , Tretij.” The empath could hear the grin in his voice when Eli said it, turning back from the window in annoyance.

“Bad,” Tretij hissed; if Eli wanted to call him like a dog Tretij could do the same in return, the other boy laughing at his reaction and pulling him up and over to their kitchen table. He sat Tretij down on one of the chairs that had seen better days perhaps a century ago, the wood stained and partially cracked, wobbling even under Tretij’s meagre weight as Eli turned to look for the scissors he used on his own hair. It made Tretij a little nervous to leave this in the other boy’s hands, not that Eli had ever looked bad handling his own hair but they weren’t exactly a straight comparison. With how much there was to cut through it took some time for Eli to even brush it into sections to make it manageable, Tretij wincing until he finally started trimming it down.

There wasn’t any talking beyond that as loose hair started falling, Eli concentrating and trying his best to turn Tretij’s hair back into a style that at least partially resembled what it had been like when they had met, although even then it had been a little overgrown, his last haircut before their meeting having been in the Russian lab at Moscow. The reminder was unsettling, especially as Tretij remembered the way he was held down then, watched strands of his hair curling around his face as they shaved his scalp for the tattoo. It made him feel a little sick to think about, having put the event and the markings from his mind for the most part. Even Eli hadn’t seen the tattoos as Tretij was incredibly private about his skin being uncovered, and his hair was plenty of protection from the one on his skull.

Or at least it had been, Tretij nervous as more and more hair piled up around him, his head growing blessedly lighter and cooler but leaving the tattoo potentially exposed to being discovered as Eli continued to card his fingers through. As soothing as the action was it made him flinch when the blond brushed over the spot where his hair was noticeably shorter, hyper sensitive with anxiety as Eli hummed in curiosity, combing the locks through his fingers and trying to even out the length. It took a little longer for the tension between their minds to grow palpable enough for him to comment, the low sound becoming a hiss of pain as Tretij exerted his tense energy onto Eli.

“Why’s your hair messed up here? Did you get hit on the head? It would explain a lot...” Eli furrowed his brows as if he were particularly inconvenienced, Tretij stilling and clamping shut on their connection, nothing to give away. He didn’t want Eli to see his tattoos, just like he himself never wanted to see them; the memory conjured up emotion as if they were fresh from a week ago instead of over a year old, the helplessness and pain sitting under his skin, resigned to being a number and a codename and never again Jarek. The sudden absence of emotion is what clued Eli in to know something was really amiss, feeling out for some sign as he continued to press the pad of his thumb over the empath’s skull where the new growth was curled tight to his scalp.

With his attention called to it, especially with Tretij’s strange behavior, it didn’t take long for Eli to see what the psychic had been so distressed about him noticing, scowling when he noted the dark markings along the skin beneath, rubbing as if it were dirt that could be so easily removed. Tretij mumbled soft and incoherent, a nervous rattle under Eli’s searching hands as the realization dawned on the blond just what he was looking at. Tretij proceeded to lock up, breath quickening as he tried to turn away the fretful thoughts consuming him, remembering what it had been like to be locked away and trained for a life he didn’t want, blood on his hands just a reality of survival. It made him feel sick, used, and he was too sure Eli would be annoyed by that, as someone who had lived through worse with less feeling.

But there was silence, Eli still holding his hair back from the tattoo, an air of anger and disquiet permeating the space between them. Tretij’s slow seep of mental anguish latched onto Eli until he could sense the other boy fully again, the snarling rage bitten back by confusion intermixed and clawing tightly into the empath’s mind. It made Tretij cover his face, breathe and realize under his palms were the wet lines of tears that he hadn’t even noticed, still leaking from his eyes in the overwhelming aftermath of something he wished he had thought to hide better. Tretij could tell Eli was seeking out answers, pulling at the psychic’s mind as if he were rummaging through a box of things better left forgotten and stuffed into a closet, now upturned and laid bare.

“They marked you up…. Like you were nothing more than a piece of military equipment to them.” Eli started, his voice oddly controlled despite his barely-contained fury. He didn’t seem to notice that Tretij was crying, or the effect the reminder of the experience was having on him, instead so caught up in his anger at yet another round of faceless adults and authority figures, leaving Tretij feeling overwhelmed and lost without a sense of self. “Held you down and treated you like you weren’t even human… I guess there really is no end to the justifications adults can give themselves.” Eli stopped and Tretij could sense the rage turning to introspection, his hands moving from Tretij’s hair to his arms, hovering there as if he wanted to touch and confirm the tattoos under his shirt as well.

“Bet they anticipated you turning on them, and that’s why… They deserved whatever you did to them on the way out.” Eli’s voice was bitterly cruel, no empathy to give to people who would hurt him or anyone under him; it didn’t really make Tretij feel any better, he just felt tired, and was left with a headache from his crying and Eli’s upset. “Is that how this happened too? You and that… Man on Fire? Escaping must have been hard, if it left you with these…” Eli’s fingers pressed brief and warm to the burn scar along Tretij’s neck, following the jagged line of pink to the empath’s hairline before Tretij shook him off with hunched shoulders and a small sound of anguish. It was near impossible to communicate vocally like this, instead doing his best to make a mental impression of his escape, close to the fire of Volgin’s rage but not in danger of being burned, not the way he had been.

“So it happened before all that, then?” Eli needed a moment to process what Tretij had foisted on him, resuming his trimming slowly as though he were still thinking about it all, having grown used to the way the smaller boy could overload him with information and images in an effort to be understood. Tretij made nothing more than a small sound of affirmation, not wanting to pull up that memory today as well; as bad as the tattoos had been, his village had been far worse, a blight on his peace of mind and a regular feature of his nightmares, something he would rather keep to himself as Eli had chosen to do with parts of his own past. It was impossible to determine if it was because Eli simply didn’t care to share or if he had decided it wasn’t a story worth telling, but Tretij couldn’t fault him for it, from what he had seen on Eli’s worst nights in the back of his mind. Maybe the blond wondered about him too, who he used to be before he was Tretij Rebenok.

“Must have been a Hell of a show… I’m surprised I didn’t get tattooed, as many times as I tried to run away. You seem more… docile,” Eli talked on and Tretij wondered why he just couldn’t be quiet, a mean twinge in the corner of his mind as he lay split between wanting to change the subject and curious if Eli would discuss more about himself than he usually did. “I think they would have liked if I had managed it, wouldn’t have been their problem anymore, then. In Africa they were happy when I finally skipped out, even if I killed my handler; nobody came looking for me, that I could tell. Finally rid of the _enfant terrible_ they had dealt with for so many years.” Tretij winced as Eli roughly pulled a knot free, no apology for the rough treatment beyond a brush over the spot.

“I heard ‘em talking once, about how there was no more funding for my care, and that was when things really went to shit. Before that I don’t know where I was, but they took me to England and made me sound more proper, by their standards… like they were trying to turn me into something else again,” A chunk of hair sailed by Tretij’s face, deep red like the drying blood in Eli’s memory of the man he killed to escape. “I wonder what they were training me for, before and after… all it did was make them even more useless, I never needed them. I did just fine, better than fine!” Eli’s voice rose in remembering it, the pain and anger still bleeding through his veneer of pride at not only existing, but thriving in a place that could have killed anyone else left to die there. The low hum of melancholy that followed it was hard to discern, not knowing which boy it came from. 

“I’ll never thank those arseholes for what they did to me, but now I’ll never be dependent anyone. Guess that’s the only good thing that’s come out of that mess,” Eli wasn’t soft but he was quiet, one final brush of his hands through Tretij’s hair to observe his handiwork before he appeared to be finished. “Neither of us belongs to anyone. That was… in Africa, that was what I told my men. We don’t need adults; we’re the masters of our own fates now. That means you too,” Eli gave an almost amicable pat to the smaller boy’s arm where the other barcode lay under his clothes before turning away to put the scissors back in their drawer. “Your tattoos won’t dictate your future any more than my genes dictate mine.” Eli paused, the small clatter of movement loud in the nearly-empty house. “At least, that’s what I’m going for.” 

The empath reached up to touch his new haircut in thought, the locks much shorter than before and cropped close about his jaw, unable to see the full outcome until he floated to the mirror in the nearby bathroom. He felt like he was in a strange daze after Eli’s talk, oddly enlightened and feeling marginally better as he glimpsed his reflection. A film of dirt and grime on the surface made it hard to see but not impossible, the cut not great but it was passable, a bit uneven here and there but still with plenty of thickness to keep his tattoo hidden. No longer on his neck either, although the prickly leftovers of the trim still stuck there irritatingly. 

“Ugh, you’re tracking hair through the house! Should have done this outside…” He could hear Eli grumbling beyond the doorway before he popped his head in, expectant of something that he didn’t take long to bring up in his brightening mood. “Well? Not bad for having never cut someone else’s hair before, right?” Tretij caught sight of the other boy in the grungy mirror behind him, arms crossed and a glimmer of pride in his eyes over his handiwork. The redhead pursed his lips in consideration, a one-shoulder shrug in return that made Eli growl in displeasure. “I’d like to see you do better with that mop! You could at least say thanks!” He scowled, personally offended at Tretij’s opinion, and the psychic had to crack a grin at his companion’s scorned behavior, the response almost cute in how, beneath all the huffing to the contrary, he seemed to genuinely value Tretij’s opinion. 

“Thn…. Th-thank you, Eli.” Tretij stumbled, the nervousness of earlier still making his tongue thick as he spoke. Eli’s irritation subsided quickly, more quickly than usual even, eyes narrowing in consideration of something as his expression warmed. Tretij’s smile faded in curiosity, Eli’s mind bridging between his own in comfortable understanding, though embarrassment began leaking through when he realized Tretij was picking through his mind for an answer beyond what he presented. While he couldn’t force the psychic from his mind he could change gears, redirecting the smaller boy away from his deeper thoughts with a grumpy reminder that Eli disliked him reading his mind, no matter how naturally it came to Tretij as a natural response to someone he was close to. 

Tretij didn’t begrudge Eli his privacy, running thin fingers through his shorn hair and pressing a nail to the ink under it all while the blond took his leave without saying anything more. Even without purposefully trying the empath picked up on his odd flux of emotions, laying aside trying to decipher it for now; it was likely that Eli was merely drained from the way the both of them fed into one another’s negativity; remembering the awful parts of their pasts and having them on display for someone else was difficult. Even so, if Eli could break through his anxieties and ugly experiences it gave Tretij hope for one day speaking more about his own without fear of rejection, support for one another as victims of a world that would break and brush them under the rug. There really wasn’t much to be said about it now however, Tretij pulling at a curl with sleepy eyes until he heard Eli beckoning him to come and study from his English books. 

The psychic had long ago given up the hope of a normal life but it wasn’t until now that he began to wonder if he had also thought it was meaningless to look for a happy one. From sheer lack of experience Tretij didn’t know if he could say he was happy, but he was feeling content at the moment, which was more than could be said of the past few years. Even the daunting task of awaiting textbooks with Eli as his teacher felt like a blessing, one that had him relieved rather than sighing as he answered the other boy’s call to practice. 

* * *

The event of Tretij's tattoos shook something loose in both of them, a gradual weakening of barriers as they became less private with their worst thoughts, the violence and sickness that consumed them since their youths; while Eli avoided speaking too much at length about the facility he was raised in and Tretij spoke not at all on his time before the lab, there was more to their exchanges knowing their common ground. Tretij’s speech eventually became less stumbled in either language he spoke, his voice still soft and rasping as Eli coaxed him into using his voice more often to talk about his lessons, his past, everything he could. To his shock Eli didn’t reject him at any step in the path, even when he prattled on about things he could tell the blond didn’t particularly care about, spoken haltingly and odd. He wouldn’t call Eli patient, but he had developed a certain level of tolerance for Tretij and his way of doing things, sometimes attentive and other times drilling the smaller boy just to keep him on his toes.

Tretij finally started coming out of his shell along with his regained speech, not so afraid of rejection now that he had a better handle on Eli’s mood and self. He even seemed pleased with Tretij when the redhead was suitably inquisitive about his lessons and knew the boundaries about what was appropriate to ask of Eli, only occasionally skirting issues when curious. In truth Eli gave away a lot more in mind than he believed, and Tretij was sure to keep quiet on what tidbits he took away from it, a proper level of distance befitting their current relationship. Not that he didn’t wish for more, but treating Eli like he wanted to treat a closer companion often ended with the blond boy pushing him away, if not physically then mentally, angry but not always at Tretij. It was a peculiar sensation to be on the receiving end of and Tretij tried to not feel personally offended, but the enforced distance did sting a little. 

It was even contradictory, sometimes, the way Eli would act, pushing and pulling like a rough tide lapping at Tretij’s consciousness. He could be protective when they went into the city together, holding tight to Tretij’s arm like he might float away or some adult might steal him from the blond’s grasp. Yet at home he would return to that same distance, only sometimes breaking his odd mood to talk personally and come closer without direct necessity, unlike sharing a bed for warmth. It took a lot of interaction before it finally hit Tretij, the realization that Eli had never once had friends either; he had his men in Africa, but it was clear he didn’t see them so much as friends as they were soldiers to be directed, hardly trusted with a gun and only because Eli knew he could overtake them if they thought otherwise. 

With Tretij, their relationship as partners had become more ambiguous as time wore on without a direct purpose to their actions, partners not necessarily equivalent to friends. Occasionally Eli would mutter something about still wanting to go after his father for the revenge he had been denied, yet he didn’t seem to have any idea how to go about it and it faded from his mind as other more immediate distractions presented themselves. Tretij could understand his frustration at feeling like they were wasting their time out in the middle of nowhere, months passing with little else to occupy their time aside from games and petty thievery in a place that had little to give. Tretij didn’t have a plan for his future beyond following Eli and as frightening as it could be to realize it, giving his future to Eli was the best option he had for the moment. He was sure they could both be more comfortable if they tried to be friends, if they even knew how to do so at all. 

Not that they didn’t try sometimes, in their own ways, to make things more informal. It didn’t come easy with the distrust and anxieties bred into them but they did have more reasons to believe in each other than anyone, helped along by knowing they could feel out dishonesty or opinions without either having to speak. Not to say that their adventures in Africa hadn’t fostered a certain level of trust, but it had been long enough ago that opinions could change, as Tretij initially feared. And for some time it seemed to be him who had put in the effort while Eli accepted or rebuffed without contributing much personalized work of his own, which didn’t help the redhead feel better about the situation. Every story willingly told or question asked where Eli really wanted to know about the other boy was a victory Tretij could revel in, warmed to his toes when Eli reached out to him with a kind word or a pat on the shoulder, as rare as they came. 

With winter approaching Eli certainly opened up more in his irritation with the cold, having grown used to the warmer climates in Africa and decisively hating when the temperature dropped. It had been the first time since travel that Tretij witnessed Eli willingly wearing shirts around their humble house, begrudgingly compromising being found out to stay warm by keeping the fire stoked as much as he dared. It was a lot of work and it all too often led to each of them bickering at the other about whose turn it was to gather firewood as the chill seeped into their bones, neither willing to leave the comfort of a warm bed at daybreak to refresh the fire. Eli adjusted on his own the more he was out in the icy air, no longer faulting Tretij his numerous layers even as the other boy said he was only used to it because he grew up in it, recruited to help with the morning chores and both bonding over working together like equals - like partners. 

It was rather peaceful when Eli woke him up before dawn, such a different feeling than when his father used to do the same. Tretij did better checking the traps than Eli, no mark of his passing when he was floating above the fresh layers of snow and ice, a wraith in the woods who didn’t seem human at all except for the puffs of breath coming in soft wisps through his scarf. Some days he really did feel no different than a ghost, leaving no trace wherever he went; if it weren’t for Eli the empath wondered if he would slowly go mad living like this, as if he no longer belonged to the waking world. Even returning to the house some days would feel empty, loneliness hard to assuage when his only companion wasn’t particularly interested in chatting with someone whose speech was still so slow and dull. He wouldn’t want to small talk with himself, either. 

For Tretij, the colder months at least afforded him a chance to go into town and not be seen as out of place with a scarf wrapped about his face, bright hair hidden under a hat as he remembered for a time what it was like to feel normal, just another person in a crowd. The voices of all the people weren’t so crushing with many of them indoors, Eli close at his side and keeping a running dialogue mind to mind as a helpful distraction. Reading practice, reciting words and tweaking pronunciation back and forth, Tretij was surprised how fluently Eli navigated a world that ought to have been foreign to him. Even he felt like a stranger to it sometimes, having grown up far from a place as large as this. He clamped down on such wistful thoughts before Eli noticed enough to ask, pale eyes fixated on the pavement and gloved hands twisting the ends of his scarf a bit tighter. 

For the time being Tretij put it from his mind, not in the mood to contemplate his personal failures. His lessons were enough to give him and Eli daily structure and a sense of accomplishment, the hardships of winter setting in dark around them with the days blurring together, dreary and white and silent. Some days Tretij would go to the edge of the woods and look toward the town, the soft gray of distant buildings and the lights making him ache for normalcy. He couldn’t even be sure what that meant anymore, wondering if it only seemed better from his current vantage point; Eli didn’t seem to care about fitting in beyond survival and told Tretij well enough that brooding wasn’t going to make them any more acceptable in polite society, that it would be better if he gave up the idea and started seeing the world for what it was. 

The idea was harsh, but it wasn’t something Tretij didn’t understand, deep down. Even if fantasy could be a comfort it changed nothing, softening him to the dream of a world that wasn’t there for him and never was. Kindness was in short supply for misfits like them. The only compassion they could offer would be to one another, and that had taken time to become comfortable with as well. Now Tretij couldn’t imagine a world that offered him the same consideration Eli had, especially when he watched passively the people on the street and how they could be so coldly focused, in their minds no time for something that could be construed as charity. But where the adults were frigid the other children their age could be downright cruel within their minds, no empathy reserved for two boys who looked every bit that they lived in a shack in the woods. 

As much as Tretij feared adults on a base level the children could be so much worse, his mind more attuned to their thoughts though he wished it wasn’t. Judgement and heightened, sometimes violently swinging emotions plagued the empath as he held to Eli for relief that didn’t come as easily as it should, knowing he was only safe because the blond looked like he could hold his own in a brawl, the other boys eyeing them as if sizing them up. Being on winter break afforded them too much free time, Tretij supposed, boredom and aggression going hand in hand as he felt a warning prickling in the back of his head. Eli had already sensed the rising tension without Tretij’s help, a keen eye for body language telling him all he needed to know. It may have been wiser to diffuse the situation and get out before things got heated and they risked drawing the attention of authority, but Eli was sufficiently geared up now, jaw set and posture daring the five strangers to move while crowding Tretij further behind him. 

The pair of them had stopped in a relatively deserted side street so that they could figure out where they needed to go while Tretij composed his tired mind out of the way of crowds, but now it was looking like an increasingly bad idea as their only escape narrowed to an icy gate, piles of discarded trash peeking out from under the snow. Tretij’s fingers nervously held to the fabric of Eli’s jacket, preferring to leave peaceably if his aching head could have managed it. Instead the other boys were snarling something the psychic could tell was beyond Eli’s working comprehension, not that Eli even needed to know what they were saying when their tone did well enough, stepping forward to close the gap and slugging his fist across the jaw of their presumed ringleader without a word. Tretij remained still as a startled deer while the rest descended into chaos, his partner’s face splitting into a wild grin. 

Tretij could barely parse out Eli’s thoughts in the madness, the other boy faring pretty well for being on his own; it was clear the other children had not been in so many fights, couldn’t begin to comprehend the way the blond took them down with feral precision and blood spattered across his bare knuckles, a scratchy laugh cutting through the yelling. It was clear he was delighting in being able to let loose, only losing focus in causing as much damage as possible when three who had barely managed to hold their own cut him off while the remaining two took to going after his companion. The psychic didn’t typically consider himself vulnerable, able to disappear from danger or rebuff it easily, but now was a different matter, his mind too strained by the number of people and Eli’s anger to be able to manage accuracy without possibly endangering himself or them. As much as he hated bullies, serious injuries would only lead to inquiries that they didn’t need right now. 

He could only prepare for the impending attack with closed eyes and a gasp hissed through his teeth, a bruising grip around his arm that briefly reminded the empath of the kids in his village who likewise harassed him. Back then he had no recourse but to take it either, a punch to the gut or pulled hair easier to weather temporarily than fighting back and drawing out his punishment. But now, the attack had yet to come, a strangled scream choked out by a strange gurgle cutting all of their attention back to where Eli had managed to pull his balisong from his pocket and bury the blade into the unprotected throat of the boy who had tried to rush Tretij, his expression no longer reveling in the fight but coldly detached as if all the joy had been taken from him. The one stabbed had locked up, jaw hanging slack as the knife was removed with a spray of red, all watching as the stranger crumpled to the ground and blood pooled bright and crisp into the snow. His body twitched and his hands slipped weak and futile around the puncture in a way that made Tretij turn his head, surprised that he felt more annoyance for the mess that Eli had made for them than upset for the highly probable death. At least for one moment in his mind, the stunned silence afforded him a chance to breathe. 

When it all came rushing back in, the mood had shifted from violence to genuine fear from their aggressors, Eli taking no time to allow them to back out or panic. It was hard to keep up with his cacophony of thoughts, deep-rooted rage that bubbled up as a desire to destroy the opposition for going after someone not in the fight. Perhaps there was some unknown rules of engagement for street fighting Eli was more privy to than Tretij, the empath shrugging out of their stunned grip as his partner charged them, dragging the one who had put hands on Tretij forward by the front of their coat and using the momentum as extra power for bringing his knee into their stomach before dropping him. They couldn’t have known what they were about to get themselves into and now regret was written into their paling faces, Eli sneering as he came to understand that they weren’t worth beating into the dust. The wail of a distant siren coming closer struck through the psychic like a shot, tensing with worry of being cornered by something a lot worse than a few street thugs, the nervousness across their connection making the other boy pop his head up in concern as well. 

Eli scoffed, pocketing the balisong and grabbing Tretij by the arm to haul him over the carnage, uncaring of his previous opponents as they became more concerned with their downed friend and calling for help than trying to keep them from leaving; likely a wise course of action, after having dealt with Eli’s fury firsthand. The empath wrapped his fingers over Eli’s hand to stay grounded as he was led, a rising panic at being caught by authority barely kept in check by their link, especially now that Eli had complicated things. Tretij felt far more ill at the prospect of meeting the police than his partner’s actions, numb to the blood soaking into his gloves from Eli’s grip as he breathed heavy through his scarf. He could trust the blond to keep them off the main roads, a convoluted path through the streets that eventually led them back to the trail home. Rather than duck into the woods immediately and risk being tracked by their footprints, Eli brought them to a halt behind a snowbank, squatting and looking back the way they came. 

“…Don’t think they know which way we went, but I’d rather not give up our hideout on an assumption,” Eli breathed, voice low as he caught his breath. Tretij was wheezing next to him, knees drawn to his chest while he shivered and fought off wanting to be ill with anxiety. The reality of what had happened was beginning to sink in, Eli’s composure grating when it was all Tretij could do to keep from breaking down. The redhead couldn’t even be sure the other boy realized what was happening to him with the way his eyes were turned away, the only indication Eli was reading anything at all coming in the form of a curious hum, flexing his fingers in Tretij’s grip. The blood that had dried there turned a sickly shade of brown, cracking away from his skin with the motion. Tretij grimaced, wishing he could wash Eli’s hands in the snow without him complaining of the chill. 

“It’s fine,” Eli said, his tone not giving away what he meant by it even as the empath’s eyes flicked up toward his. It took a few moments more before he elaborated, face pink with the cold and exertion of running. “They aren’t going to get us, I mean. Might have to lay low for a few weeks, but it isn’t like they’re going to know who we are. The rest of the lot will be gone in a week or two,” He shrugged with one shoulder, letting go of Tretij so he could place his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. Tretij leaned on him, grumbling in Czech until Eli snorted, “If you’re going to bitch at me, at least do it in English so you’re practicing.” 

“Eli,” Tretij tried to sound angry but only succeeded in showing just how exhausted he felt, a deep, shuddering breath wracking his thin frame. The anxiousness that had been wired through him a moment before was still there, though dimmed by the blond’s demeanor. “You are always make trouble! You kill that boy, now they look at us!” He scolded, lips pressed into a tight line behind his scarf when Eli didn’t seem to care all that much about responding, reaching over to pull Tretij’s woolen cap down further over his eyes just to be an annoyance. The teasing was distracting from his concerns even if for only a moment, pushing his hat back up with the palm of his hand, a few strands of hair fuzzed in his face. 

“Look _for_ us. Don’t worry about it so much. I don’t even know if he’s dead, could have been breathing when we left,” Eli smirked, unaffected as the empath scowled at him. “I’ve seen people survive worse. If he doesn’t, he was a dick, anyway.” He turned to check on the road, nobody visible at all in the distance. Tretij couldn’t sense anyone coming near either, but that wasn’t exactly comforting right now. 

“So what was their problem? Just a bunch of tossers looking for a fight? I couldn’t make out what they were saying.” He asked, sitting back and rubbing at his runny nose with the back of his hand while Tretij settled with his knees drawn up to his chest. The longer he was exposed to Eli’s attitude the more he found himself able to push away the concern of being tracked, though now he had to think of the crude yelling directed at them. Tretij neglected to say anything for a moment or two, unsure of how to phrase it in English. Eli nudged him with an elbow impatiently, eyebrow raised expectantly as Tretij’s furrowed, working the words around on his tongue. 

“They, ah… They say we…” Tretij fiddled with his jacket hem in thought, pink from something other than the cold in his cheeks. “We… are like… Like, boy and girl, not friend.” He floundered, not a translation of their insults but instead trying to get across the underlying cause of them, confused about what they meant by it. He had maybe only heard it once or twice before from the children in his village, and he hadn’t asked for a meaning then either. It still did nothing to clarify what they intended, the empath not understanding the connotation of having an implied romantic relationship with Eli. He didn’t know about romance, but after all this time leaning on one another they were quite close, maybe enough to be considered on a deeper level than normal. Even if their claims weren’t true, how could that be bad? 

Eli didn’t take long to make sense of it, clicking his tongue with obvious aggravation washing over his face. He mulled over his words before he opened his mouth, Tretij feeling the quiet flow of emotion for their stressful afternoon overlaying Eli’s words as he snipped, “Should have figured those idiots wouldn’t have anything better to say than that. Glad I wrecked them, maybe now they’ll keep to their own business.” The fury in his tone seemed like it was a little much for the situation, Tretij pulling curiously at his sleeve. It earned him an unusually callous response, the blond pulling away from his touch. His mind gave away very little. 

“Why would you become angry?” Tretij asked softly, concern coloring his accented English. “It means we are good friends, isn’t that so?” He hoped so, had believed they had grown close over their time together, though now he was starting to see the barriers, Eli’s reluctance to answer one more to the list. The blond grit his teeth instead, throwing one last look over his shoulder before getting to his feet, brushing snow off his clothes and taking off toward home. It was starting to make Tretij upset too, feeling it as a personal failure that Eli was disregarding him, not answering his questions; was it that Tretij wasn’t important enough to know, or just wouldn’t understand? He had been trying so hard to bridge this gap, only to fall back to square one over a question he didn't comprehend. His emotions began to morph from distress to an open display of indignation, fists clenching as he contemplated following Eli quietly for a brief moment before deciding that if he wasn't going to get an answer, he was going to at least show his indignation at the other boy walking away from him. 

Eli didn’t even look back at him to see what he had started, Tretij reaching down to ball up the snow in his hands. He had seen the other children play fighting with snowballs every winter, though sometimes they turned a more brutal version of it on him, packing hard ice or rocks into the snow. He was lucky many of them were such poor shots, but Tretij was not; he wouldn’t be using anything that they had, but the message sent by throwing a well-packed snowball and watching it pop into a flurry of pieces across the back of Eli’s head was rather cathartic, the flutter of success in his chest at making the blond stop in his tracks with shoulders tensed fading when the blond turned around, eyes shining with fury. The psychic could remember how poorly their last fight went but he stood his ground anyway, doing his best to seem sure in his choice and stand firm despite his much less impressive stature. 

When Eli rounded on him Tretij fully expected to see another ending like the last, able to feel the ire digging into his mind as the blond closed the distance between them and swiftly knocked Tretij from his feet into the snowbank. With all the layers dragging them down the fight was clumsy, flailing, but the empath could tell Eli was pulling his punches, both wrestling more to get rid of excess frustrations and apprehensions than to inflict damage. With no blood drawn the fight came to a close only once Tretij’s meagre stamina had run out, allowing Eli to easily pin him and take a handful of snow to his face, rubbing it in as if he were punishing a dog that had soiled the rug. The redhead sputtered and spat it out, his scarf having come undone during the scuffle and leaving him vulnerable. Eli was hardly even breathing heavy, his weight on Tretij’s concave stomach uncomfortable as he informed the slighter boy that now, they were even. 

“You ought to know by now that you won’t win against me,” Eli huffed, rolling off Tretij and standing up while the redhead scrubbed at his cold-numbed face. What he didn’t quite expect was the hand that reached out to him to help him up, the other boy’s scowl softening marginally around the edges. He hauled Tretij to his feet, the empath wobbling and winding his scarf back around his face, righting the tilt of his hat. Eli stuffed his hands into his pockets, watching with an expression he had often worn around his men when giving them advice in the friendliest manner he could manage. “If you’re going to start a fight, at least be sure you can finish it, and look confident about it! You’re just making yourself look like a punching bag when you stand there waiting to be hit, idiot.” 

“How do I look that way? Confident?” Tretij questioned, unsure what to make of it. They had begun trudging back toward the farmhouse, Eli still tossing one or two glances over his shoulder as they went despite Tretij not sensing anything. It took a few moments for the psychic to realize Eli was looking at him and not out at the expanse of snow and shrubs behind them, mulling over how to answer and exasperated for being made to explain himself. The shadow of the tree line as they passed beneath the boughs of barren branches only made the furrow of his brow look deeper, harsher. 

“It means don’t make yourself an easy target. If you look like you’re sure of what you’re doing, people will assume it’s true,” Eli explained, a long sigh of breath like smoke hissed between chapped lips. “Even if you can’t do something, you can’t let anyone else see that part of you. Someone will use it, turn it back on you,” He paused to pull the balisong from his pocket, flicking off dried blood from the metal and swinging it around his fingers in a hypnotizing manner. “Like those boys, they attacked because they thought we looked weak. Not enough sense to know danger when they see it, but sometimes all you have to do is posture and they’ll think twice. If nothing else it sets you up for a free shot.” Tretij came a bit closer to Eli’s side to see his wry grin at that, clenching the fist that had buried itself into bone on the first hit, scrapes across the knuckles. 

Tretij’s hum was thoughtful, no longer walking but floating with the tips of his toes occasionally brushing the top of the snow, strange shapes left behind. He couldn’t see how just looking scary could keep someone from attacking him; someone whose presence was already intimidating like Volgin or Skull Face had more chance than he did, undersized and not at all physically daunting. With his powers he could show reason for people to fear him, but that was a dangerous prospect, the idea of slaughtering people who were bullies satisfying for a part of him that sought justice, but frightening for the realization of how easy it would be. 

It only became further startling to realize, deep down, that he liked the idea of making these faceless people pay for actions against him, against Eli, taking out all the terrible things that had been forced upon them in an instant of pain that pulled people apart at the seams. If Eli hadn’t stopped the fight, would Tretij have been forced to enter the fray, torn them to shreds with no emotion other than a need for retribution? Were these even truly his thoughts, he wondered, the newfound aggression so alien in his head. He couldn’t be sure but the idea left a taste in his mouth like bitterness and blood, the rise in his emotional state transferring to his partner who grabbed him by the wrist, grounding the empath mentally and physically. Tretij’s gaze turned to his immediately, the disruption affording him the chance to calm down. 

“Stop it,” Eli warned, having paused mid-step to make sure he had the full attention of the psychic boy, balisong held tight in his other hand. There must have been a great deal he had pulled from their connection to be able to know what had upset Tretij so. “Before we left Africa, I would have agreed with you. Tear them to shreds, not like anyone will miss ‘em, but you had it right before.” His fingers slid away, Tretij’s eyes bright even in the shade of the trees as he watched, listening intently. “We have to blend in, it isn’t like being in Tanzania or Afghanistan anymore. People here aren’t like the ones we fought who knew what they were doing. They’re stupid; we can kill them without even meaning to.” The blade in his hand glinted, a testament to that fact. 

Tretij would have called him a hypocrite if he knew the word in English, swallowed around the chill in his throat as he asked instead, softly, “Did you mean to, Eli?” it really didn’t matter if he had meant to or not, but some part of the empath was curious to know why the mood had so suddenly changed, the blond enjoying himself in one moment but then murderous in the next. He could have finished them singlehandedly without taking out his knife, but instead some sort of switch was flipped, the sense of outrage and something like a hint of panic still lodged in Tretij’s memory. What he felt radiating off the other boy now was more akin to light impatience, clicking his tongue. 

“’Course I meant to. They were looking for trouble and they found it.” He turned away from Tretij, back on the trail. It didn’t feel like much of an answer, the empath huffing in mimicry of Eli’s typical annoyed response to being questioned, the other boy doing it right back in the most mocking manner he could manage. “What was I supposed to do, let them gang up on us? On you? Maybe you’re used to curling up and showing your belly in a physical fight, but I’m not going to let a bunch of disorganized wankers playing at being tough get a hit on us.” Eli was still posturing, rubbing at his nose again as he added, “We’re partners, remember? You watch my back and I’ll watch yours. Anyone comes at you, I’ll be there to tell ‘em to fuck off.” 

“Fuck off?” Tretij held to Eli’s elbow, letting himself be tugged along. He’d heard Eli say something akin to it plenty of times but he never did get a straight answer on what it meant, the blond snorting in amusement as the words left Tretij’s mouth, heavily accented. Tretij pulled on Eli’s coat, telling him not to make fun while Eli continued to brighten. It wasn’t like he would learn if nobody told him what these things were, and he had told Eli plenty of things in Czech that hadn’t been easy to describe. The least Eli could do was try! 

“It’s a very…. Versatile word….” Eli motioned in a noncommittal way with the hand Tretij wasn’t holding to, turning to see Tretij’s blank stare, waiting for elaboration. “…versatile meaning it’s flexible. Has a lot of uses. If you tell someone to fuck off, you’re telling them to go away. But really… giving it to them, you know?” Tretij cocked his head and hummed, mulling it over while Eli continued to drag him along like a strangely heavy balloon. “Don’t you have a word or phrase in Czech like that? Seems like something most places have a way of saying.” 

Tretij didn’t answer for a while, letting his mind wander a bit as the scenery passed him by. He would have thought the connection would be easier to make in his mind, all things considered with the way he used to have to alternate between begging to be left alone and posturing what little he was able to manage just to survive living in his village. His voice rasped in the dry air telling Eli “ _do háje_ ,” only to watch the blond screw up his face in confusion over the term and snort. “What about the woods? Is that what you said?” Eli questioned and Tretij nodded, noting the other boy’s uncertainty over the term’s relevance to what he had asked. 

“You say to someone, to go to the woods, and that’s rude.” Tretij tried to explain, but in English he supposed it did sound strange and weak, Eli actually barking laughter that telling someone to go into the forest could be considered offensive in any capacity. It was a little impolite maybe, but not at all like telling someone to fuck off. Tretij thought a bit harder while Eli collected himself, the exterior of their hidden home coming into view now. Eli would leave his footprints around their traps but there was little to be done about it now; hopefully it would snow tonight and cover them again so Tretij didn’t have to take brush to the snow and wipe it clean. “You ah, can say too, _jdi se vycpat_ , maybe? Or _jdi k čertu_ …” Tretij trailed off, not even certain if Eli fully understood what he was saying. From the raised brow, it didn’t seem so. 

“I think I’ll leave those to you. It would do you some good to yell at people and prove you aren’t a total pushover,” Eli was still very bemused by the whole talk with the way he grinned, and the empath felt his face heat up under his scarf for having said such crude things so plainly. “Why don’t you practice right now? If those boys were following us, what would you tell them?” Eli asked, both of them standing in the doorway of the house. Tretij wished they would just go inside and warm up instead of this but the blond was waiting, expectant. “Go on then, get a little practice in!" 

Tretij was sure his partner was only doing this to make fun of him, the flush creeping to his ears at the thought of shouting out into the woods like he'd been wronged by an ornery bush. It didn’t look like Eli was going to pick the lock to the house until he acquiesced however, Tretij fiddling with the end of his coat before he stuttered his new English phrase out toward the barren trees. Eli shook his head, not going to be satisfied by that. “What was that, do you really think that was intimidating? Do try to mean it!” He directed, tugging the slighter boy’s scarf from his mouth so his words weren’t muffled behind the fabric. Tretij scowled at the shock of cold on his barely-warmed skin, not in any more of a mood to perform as he worried at his scarred lip. 

“Fu-….. Fuck off!” Tretij said with a little more determination, voice still wavering but at least louder. A few sparrows fluttered away from a nearby tree, disturbed by the sound, and Eli patted him on the back. “Well if you were trying to frighten a bird I suppose that was good. People generally need a little more, though.” He critiqued and the empath huffed out a stream of white, annoyance fueling his anger to say it progressively louder, small body shaking and fists clenched by his sides until he could hear his voice nearly echoing between the trees, only softened by the snow cushion. Eli’s laughter was good company for it as it died out, Tretij looking back at him with wide eyes and breath heavy, face reddened from the cold and exertion. 

“Not bad! I think you’d get someone with that one,” the blond told him, his good mood catching as Tretij found himself mimicking it in his tired state, a small laugh bubbling up from his raw throat. Eli finally took the pick from his pocket to unlock the door, a task he fulfilled in seconds. It was hardly warmer inside than out, the pair only removing their boots before going to the fireplace to get it lit. It would take a long time for it to properly warm up, both sitting nearby to tend it to full flame and feel the growing heat wafting out. The silence was amicable enough to almost forget their stressful afternoon, Tretij murmuring fuck off under his breath a few times more while the other boy began taking off his outer coat. 

“Eli,” Tretij called to get his attention, the blond’s eyes flicking up at him for a moment enough sign that he was listening. “So I know now, fuck off, but. You are angry that we don’t kiss? Why?” His phrasing was off but it got a calmer reaction this time, Eli biting the tips of his gloved fingers before removing them, taking his time before he said anything. Tretij could tell from a brief touch of their mental link that he still didn’t want to talk about it for whatever reason, stalling and sighing like it was some great effort to respond. 

“I’m not angry that we don’t kiss, you twit, I’m angry that they implied we do.” Eli groused when he had finally gotten comfortable in his spot, using his clothes to make the hardwood more bearable. “Maybe you were born yesterday, but that’s an insult where I come from, kissing like you’re…” He scoffed and trailed off, Tretij no more educated now than he had been a few moments ago. 

“No kissing friends? Why?” Tretij followed up, still more burning in the back of his mind he wanted Eli to give his opinion on. In his home country, at least, he had seen many people kiss when they were close; it wasn’t necessarily romantic, but Tretij had always taken it to mean that people who were at some special level of friendship kissed as a display and affirmation of it. What harm was there of lips on someone's cheek? Maybe Eli only didn't want to allow it because Tretij's mouth was so scarred. The other boy groaned, as if realizing now that this wasn’t going to be a conversation he was getting out of without significant effort. 

“Not where I come, no. Look, it’s complicated,” Eli kicked out his feet, restless and frustrated, and the empath was torn between being likewise irritated or feeling appropriately guilty for needling an answer out of someone who wasn’t in the mood for discussion. The blond didn’t seem intent on giving him more than that, clicking his tongue and turning to one of the oldest tricks in the book. “It’s complicated and I don’t think I know enough Czech or you enough English to discuss it properly. I’ll tell you when you’re older, so stop bringing it up.” He finished and Tretij deflated, resting his head on his knee with his gaze still focused on the other boy. 

“If you wanted, I would kiss you,” The psychic grinned when he felt the mild twinge of panic, Eli looking at him with such incredulity, as if he couldn’t parse out if what was just said was meant seriously or not. But Tretij hadn’t ever had a friend he was close enough to show such intimacy with and it was unlikely he would get another soon; he couldn’t think of a single reason to not kiss his partner if he was looking for a display of affection. In truth he was plenty curious, too, although the opportunity was certainly not presenting itself today if Eli’s reaction was any indication, shoving Tretij over and making the smaller boy laugh with amusement at his weird vehemence against kissing. 

“Shut your trap already, could you possibly be any more infuriating!” Eli’s voice pitched and didn’t help Tretij from his giggles, crooked teeth bared as he lay on the floor, mocking the blond with a noisy smooch at the air that only got him more roughed up as Eli slapped at him. The hits were ineffectual, smacking at the thick padding of Tretij’s clothes and making no leeway to the thin boy beneath. His amusement hadn’t died down by much before Eli was telling him to go find something else to do if bothering him was his new hobby, the redhead remaining uselessly limp and watching Eli’s face turning to look the other way in the flickering light of the fire. 

When they both finally calmed again and lapsed into quiet Tretij let his eyes slip shut, warm and comfortable, noting Eli’s hand was still on his shoulder, no more than the lightest of touches to establish a connection. The intricacies of kissing really didn’t seem so important to know and it was easy to forget their silly spat as Tretij pillowed his head on his arms, happy enough to not feel alone with the threat of the outside world far beyond them now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly some fluff and character growth, though the former won't be around forever...
> 
> The cursing Tretij uses is probably not that approximate to Fuck Off, but I have read that they are very rude ways to dismiss someone, so take them as you will:  
>  _Jdi se vycpat_ \- go stuff yourself  
>  _Jdi k čertu_ \- go to Hell (lit. go to the Devil?)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as mothbats as well, if you have any questions or want to keep up with me between updates!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies if you were notified of this chapter twice, or clicked on it and it was suddenly gone for a short while! I accidentally uploaded it before I was done with it... If only I could make it so that I had to save to preview before I could upload...
> 
> Anyway! This is now the longest chapter of the fic thus far - sorry if having one this big is a bit daunting to look at, but as it is only two scenes I found I couldn't really split it up without making the last chapter super long or this one. :x  
> I hope you enjoy!

It was a long while before Tretij felt comfortable going back into town again, having preferred to stay as far and away from potential trouble as he could manage. Their small house was plenty for him in that regard, noting on his first foray into the market since his and Eli’s previous incident that enough time had passed for all the children they had seen before to have left, back in school he had hoped, and not hiding, frightened of some embellished encounter of a couple of ghastly boys slitting throats in a back alley. It was relieving to hear that the holidays had long since passed and everyone was merely back in school, no more fears of run-ins plaguing him for now. So long as adults didn’t notice how out of place they were, he’d be happy, even if he had missed Christmas.

The weather turned positively bitter and icy as the coldest month rolled in and going outside became only on necessity instead of leisure, something that was beginning to drive them both a little crazy, albeit for different reasons; Eli was starting to remind Tretij of a dog in need of walking the way he paced the house, never settling, pouring himself into practicing Czech by writing and listening to the radio all day when nothing else required his attention. Tretij wouldn’t have minded that much, but Eli pushing him to do his English studies for the same amount of time left him aggravated and unable to focus on much of anything, a headache forming from the intensity of it all. Small fights based in irritation weren’t all that unusual, squabbles forgotten as soon as they ended with both parties less tense.

Tretij was sure that with anyone else it would be far less tolerable but with Eli he could finally begin to speak his mind without such fear, able to argue fairness and use of time, even turning the phrase the other boy had taught him back on the blond when he felt the situation called for it. Mostly it only served to make things worse, although a few times it had made Eli concede to whatever it was Tretij wanted to do, after the blond finished his tantrum. The psychic’s burgeoning backbone was enough to even talk Eli into learning how to play _svoyi koziri_ with a stolen pack of cards, though his memory of the rules was a bit rusty. Cheating was merely the standard, games more interesting when they played to not get caught; Tretij was far better at it than Eli, given his abilities, and by the time winter finally began to thaw into spring, their language skills and knowledge of various card games had vastly improved.

April is still far colder than Eli is used to, the days warming but not enough to completely forgo his shirts as he’d like, Tretij still as bundled as ever and sniffling from what he supposes is some overdue cold, the radio playing softly as they both flipped cards between their fingers, locked in yet another game when the tune stops and the radio is overtaken by what seems to be the level droning of a man relaying news. The game pauses too, the pair moving almost in near-perfect synch with furrowed brows and confusion to turn up the volume, Eli having to listen more closely than his partner and still missing key bits here and there. It was hard to tell from the report just how serious things were but Tretij could feel his stomach dropping, something about it unnerving and worrisome.

“I don’t think I caught all that, since you seem a lot more alarmed,” Eli broke Tretij’s concentration, the empath’s eyes flicking from the rusty surface of the radio to Eli’s face, no humor in his tone but awaiting clarification. “ _Czernobyl?_ Is that what they said? Is that close to here or something? Sounds like something dangerous is going on.” He shuffled his cards in his hands idly while Tretij nodded, nothing more to glean from the report as the voice repeated itself now. 

“A little close, in _Ukrajina…_ They say there was a problem and now there is…. I do not know this word in English… _radioaktivní?_ ” Tretij looked to Eli as if he might have an answer to that, nervousness confirmed as the other boy paled. It made him curious to know how Eli would have picked it up but not him, placing his cards face down and knowing their game was done.

“Radioactivity? Radioactive? Is that what they meant?” He asked, voice hiding the deep concern Tretij could feel chiseling into his skull. The empath could only say he didn’t know, the report telling that it came from a power plant of some sort that had destroyed itself, having to supplement his words with mental images to bridge the language gap. “What else did they say? They wouldn’t bring it up if we didn’t need to be concerned about it.” Eli tapped the edges of his cards on the table like a nervous tic, clearly hating to be out of the loop like this.

“They say it happen four days ago, some _radioaktivní_ here today but, not a lot,” Even as he said it Tretij didn’t feel any better, rubbing his runny nose with the arm of his sweater and wondering at what point they should be concerned. “They will keep looking, but maybe is nothing to worry about.” Out of habit the redhead began shuffling the cards, a memory of the hospital flickering briefly as his fingers clumsily pushed them together and flayed them apart. Eli seemed wholly unconvinced.

“I don’t buy it. There has to be something more to it than that, though hell if I know what,” Eli’s suspicion was not unfounded given the way they had seen adults manipulate the world, but Tretij found he was hoping it was wrong even so. Even though his homeland hadn’t offered him any favors, he didn’t like the idea of watching it rot, trying to flee from such a disaster when it was hard enough getting in before. They would definitely not be the only ones trying to leave then, either. Still, there was little to do except wait and see what the future held, knowing it would do them little good to panic too soon. They needed to observe, spend more time out of their home to see if there was more to be learned in town. People gave gossip freely, and it would be easy to hear any shift in opinion just by listening.

Unfortunately rumor didn’t seem to be the only thing these people were giving, a plague erupting among the young and old, the weak, and some between; it started slowly, would have been easy to dismiss it as flu at this time of year, the way it turned people nauseous with coughing and headaches, low fevers with whispers of mass hysteria behind them. The news reiterated that nothing was wrong and there was no call to be worried or change their way of living, the voices coming often, but Tretij wondered if it were true, swallowing against the nausea bubbling up inside him and attributing it to the press of so many anxious minds. Walking back from town the following day had Eli scoffing at the idea of this all being somehow fine, pulling his pack with groceries up higher over his shoulder.

“There’s just no way they’d tell the truth about something like this, not the whole truth anyway,” Eli prattled on, Tretij sighing and aching behind him with his own bag in arms, feeling abnormally tired. Perhaps Eli’s suspicion was beginning to wear him down, the both of them jumping at shadows. “It’s stupid to think they would, people are too trusting! Suppose they’d rather turn a blind eye and call it fine than think they’re doomed, yeah?” He smirked as if at his own cleverness, Tretij distracted from answering by realizing that his feet were beginning to drag the ground, wet leaves and sticks crunching as he stumbled forward, tripping. He just couldn’t seem to put the mental power to staying afloat, exhausted and unsure of why it was suddenly so bad, clenching his bag tight in shaking fingers.

“Hey, what’s with you?” Eli was talking again, good mood gone in a moment as he turned back, his voice sounding strangely distant in Tretij’s ears. For once he didn’t seem so rough, what Tretij would almost call a twinge of concern in his words as he looked the small psychic over, a press to the empath’s already worn mind. “We’re not that much further out, you can’t seriously be so tired yet.” There, a little more familiarity with his tone, coaxing Tretij into continuing until the redhead simply didn’t move, eyes dulled with fatigue and discomfort.

“I don’t know, I…” Tretij swallowed hard, thinking difficult to him now as the world seemed to tilt in an odd manner, colors becoming less vibrant. “I feel… strange….” The words trailed from his mouth, sensing his arms giving out but feeling so unattached, as if his body were no longer his own. He thought he could see Eli briefly in his growing haze before he crumpled to the forest floor, expression having shifted rapidly in surprise as the small boy collapsed, the bag he had been holding scattering its contents beneath him. Fighting to stay awake was like struggling against a rising sea, his head lolling uselessly as Eli came to his knees beside and tried to haul him up. Somehow the act sent all the blood rushing away like a tide from the shore, Tretij’s consciousness leaving him with a muted gasp, his last fleeting thought of warm hands on his cool skin.

Tretij couldn’t be immediately sure how long it was before he woke up again, lying half-tucked in the blanket pile they called a bed and still feeling quite ill. He was starting to become unbearably hot on top of that, noting that Eli had dumped him there after only removing his outer coat and boots, the heat culminating in a wave of nausea that left him gagging, scrambling weakly to pull away his scarf as if it somehow might help. He hadn’t even noticed the other boy was sitting much closer than he thought, Eli grabbing his shoulder and turning him, forcing a bucket into his hands as if he knew instinctively what was going to happen and was waiting for it. Tretij wondered if he had had transmitted quite a bit of his distress as he slept, retching into the receptacle and not feeling much better for having done so, his mouth tasting so disgustingly metallic it nearly made him ill again. 

“You were out for maybe an hour,” Eli interrupted him before he could be sick again, although that was far from the most pressing thought on Tretij’s mind. He was grateful that the other boy had thought to bring him a glass of water at least, sipping as much as he dared. “Feels like you’re running a fever too. Any other symptoms?” He asked coarsely, and Tretij wouldn’t award him on his bedside manner, that was for sure. Still, he was trying, when he could have left Tretij by himself just the same. Tretij took another drink of water, body shaking like he might pass out again if he worked too hard.

“My head, and stomach…” Tretij rubbed at his temple where the pressure he had hoped would go away only pounded harder now that he was sitting up, sweat beading there as he tried again to take off his layers. This time Eli didn’t interrupt, waiting for him to continue with surprising consideration. “My head hurts more. I’m tired.” The empath wondered if it was possible for his skull to crack from the force of his brain aching; he had never considered it before, but with his powers, he really didn’t know how bad it could get. If he had learned anything, if was that things could always get worse. Eli was still watching with that same intensity, the empath wishing he would stop so he didn’t feel his thoughts pressing on him too.

“It’s the same thing as the other people were coming down with, isn’t it?” Eli seemed wary as he asked, and the redhead thought he was going to tell him not to buy into the strange hysteria that was making people so unwell. Instead he was getting to his feet, no harsh words or condescension as he thought it over. He was starting to look a little rough around the edges himself; maybe he really could sense how awful Tretij felt and believed him well enough without pushing him. Nonetheless his deeper thoughts remained a mystery, Tretij already faltering. 

“Just stay in bed, then. Don’t need you trying to walk around if you’re only going to pass out and hit your head.” Eli huffed and stretched, the creak of his bones telling how long he had waited by the psychic’s side for him to wake up. He stood there a few more moments, looking down and working his jaw as if he had something more to say before turning, saying over his shoulder for Tretij to call to him if he really needed something, and to otherwise go to sleep. It was hardly a tall order considering Tretij’s condition, head falling back to the blankets and immediately feeling a wave of fatigue that made it nearly impossible to keep his eyes open. If only sleeping could be a better refuge from the way his body was breaking down on top of him.

Consciousness was fleeting for the remainder of the day, Tretij only fully waking when Eli came to force him up for dinner, and even that was a difficult task, the redhead barely able to extricate himself from all the blankets he had gotten tangled in. Although he had slept for hours it felt like he had barely rested, nearly dropping the spoon Eli thrust into his clammy hand to eat the stew the other boy had made. As hungry as Tretij should have been he felt it nothing but a chore to eat despite the meal being palatable, choking down what he could knowing it was the only way to feel marginally better. Eli wouldn’t settle for anything less than the redhead finishing what was given to him, this time around.

“You were getting better, before today,” Eli started around a mouthful of bread, jumping in all at once as per usual and making Tretij squint his tired eyes across the candlelit table in confusion. If he wasn’t actively reading his partner’s mind sometimes he got lost in the flow of conversation. The psychic nodded shallowly, still moving slow as the other boy took this into consideration. “Do you think this is the same thing? It seems different from a cold or flu, and everyone started getting it after the news announced that _Czernobyl_ event. I would have thought people were just being idiots, but if you’re like this, maybe it’s something else.” His voice was so serious it was making Tretij nervous, chewing on his spoon until Eli pushed his arm down to stop the clicking of his teeth on the metal. 

“In town, people were saying that event happened days ago and we’re only just now hearing about it; like some sort of cover up, they don’t want people knowing how bad it really was. Bad enough that us, we’re probably getting a lot more radiation than they say,” Eli’s grip of Tretij’s arm was tight, Tretij’s reedy pulse pounding and making him almost feel faint from the combination of illness and Eli’s frantic nature. He couldn’t be entirely sure that the dimming of his vision was from the flickering light or not. “I’m not getting sick, but you weren’t exactly equipped to fight off shit even before this, much less now. 

“Either way,” Eli’s hand slowly released, not breaking eye contact. “We shouldn’t stick around until it gets worse. Besides, I’ve learned Czech passably and you know decent English, so we’ve already fulfilled our original reason for coming here. I don’t think we should overstay our welcome.” Eli nodded at him and Tretij knew what it meant well enough, that the decision has been made, and that there was to be no argument; Eli was the leader and would take no other option in this instance. With Tretij being too weak to properly argue against it, all he could do was stutter, trying to talk around the anxiety caused by this sudden change.

“Maybe I am only sick for a little time, it could leave!” The psychic breathed heavily through it, not even sure why he was defending staying any longer. It wasn’t like their lives were so perfect here that they had no reason to go, radioactive incidences aside. Eli was scowling, Tretij cutting off his disapproval before he could voice it, his own words shaking with the effort of talking, as stressed as he was. “We have good house, we are both learning, it is not so bad, please, I will get better-“ he wheezed, unable to keep up with his own pace before Eli cut him off with a loud smack of his hand to the tabletop. The wood creaked and the dishes clattered, Tretij falling silent immediately, the same instinct that told him to stay still as a fawn when his father was angry. 

“It isn’t up for debate,” Eli clarified, Tretij fighting sinking down in his seat, his illness making him less combative in his fatigue. “I remember when you didn’t want to come back here, and why would you want to return to the country that bought and sold you? Or did you forget that they treated you like nothing but a weapon, a bargaining chip?” He was almost snarling now, Tretij unable to meet his eyes; Eli was right of course, as he always was. “But, if you need another reason, how about the fact that you don’t know history, math, or any other basic skills? If you stay here you’re just going to be stupid for the rest of your life, trying to learn from textbooks like these. Is that what you want?” 

Eli’s ire was beginning to infect Tretij now, an itch growing under his skin with the way he was being talked down to, irritation bubbling up in his throat before he could stop it. The words he wanted to speak were growing heavier on his tongue, doing his best to reassure himself that he could say them; Eli hadn’t always agreed with his suggestions the more the empath became open about them but if he didn't voice them, there was no opportunity for change. Tretij’s eyes dared to look back up, doing his best to not be cowed as he rasped, “No, but we are partners, you said. But you don’t listen to me! You just say it will happen! You do not even ask what I think!” His stomach was knotting itself up again, and he hoped it was out of nervousness and not his illness returning. Eli snorted like what he had said was ridiculous, settling back into his seat but still maintaining an authoritative posture.

“We do what I say because I know better, what do you know about any of this? I’m the one who got us out of Africa, I’m the one who fixed up this house and saved you from getting beaten up, so you should be listening to me!” His voice was rising but his stance remained the same, tension in his shoulders like a coiled snake and Tretij wincing at the volume. The candles were flickering dangerously, the psychic trying to tamp down his emotion, knowing in his current state that it would be hard to control, could become dangerous. Even if Eli was right he could at least be a bit more tactful about it, but when had he ever considered someone else’s feelings before opening his mouth? “If you have a better plan that doesn’t involve you getting even worse before this whole country goes to shit, I’d love to hear it. But since I know you don’t, just do as I say!” He snarled, teeth bared and ready to go down fighting. 

“You do not know everything, Eli! I saved you, too!” Tretij snapped back, breath quickening and leaning forward in his seat with his hands steadied on the rough wood of the table. He didn’t have much of a dog in this fight and yet he couldn’t stop himself, he wanted to be treated more as an equal, not as a child playing follow-the-leader to Eli’s ego. The candles had gone from flickering to steady flames that were burning larger and brighter, nearly out of control of their candlesticks. “I am not a baby! Maybe I say okay if you tell me why you do something first!” His throat was starting to hurt with his involuntary yelling, as if it would be the only way he could get the other boy to listen. To his credit, Eli was paying attention now, although he didn’t seem happy to be hearing it. It eased Tretij’s nerves, just a little. “I want… I want to be friends. I don’t want to fight, okay?” He was pitifully earnest to his own ears, fighting to keep eye contact, worrying his lip between his teeth when Eli didn’t respond right away. 

“Friends.” Eli repeated blankly, carefully, as if mulling the word over. Tretij could tell he was a bit taken aback by it, even if he schooled his face to not show it. Tretij nodded, heart beating so quickly against his ribs that he was beginning to feel lightheaded. His desperation must have been plainly visible, sensing the apprehension to say anything, Eli tight-lipped and closed off in his mind. Tretij looked away then, feeling a hot wash of shame and thankful for the dying brightness of the candles hiding it from plain sight. He wished they would go out entirely, hide his ugly face from the world so that he didn’t have to wait for an answer he knew wasn’t coming, no affirmation to be had. Follower, not friend. He sunk back into his chair, trying not to sniffle and sound more pathetic than he already seemed.

“Tretij, you…” Eli started, brows furrowing and mouth pinched as if he had eaten something sour. Tretij didn’t look, instead wishing that he could sink into the floor and not have to realize the end result of this conversation. “Tretij, look at me,” Eli said more firmly and he did then, cautiously glancing up and feeling something warm trickling under his nose, reaching up to rub away what he thought was mucus and coming back with blood on his hand, the smudge almost black in the dark of their kitchen. The taste of salt and copper fell on his tongue as dripped faster now, quivering and faint; were his symptoms really getting worse? Was it only stress, or a coincidence? 

The nausea returned with his widening eyes, smearing the blood across his lips as he clamped down over his mouth. Eli was moving instantly, standing and his chair hitting the floor with a sharp clatter as he grabbed the bucket again, pushed it into Tretij’s hands in time for the empath to rid himself of everything he had eaten. Maybe not getting better then, Tretij realized as he pulled back to breathe with aching lungs, eyes watering and nose still leaking. He shied from Eli’s touch, sensitive and doing his best not to cry even as he felt his eyes prickle with tears, disgusted by his own skin.

“The sooner we get out of here the better,” Eli mumbled, not expecting a response from what Tretij could tell, and probably thankful for the distraction. Instead he was tearing off the sleeve of his nightshirt, wadding up the fabric and pressing it to the empath’s face, which didn’t do much to help the breathing situation as Tretij gagged. “Lean forward so it doesn’t clot in your throat. You’ll be fine.” Combined with his harsh voice Eli’s reassurance wasn’t much to go on, Tretij whimpering for the pain in his head combined with all this. Everything burned with exhaustion and shame and he just wanted to go back to sleep, blissfully numbed to the world. Eli’s hand resting between his shoulders was the only thing still grounding him now and he hated it, keeping him from truly sobbing like a child as it rubbed a small circle over the sharp point of Tretij’s spine.

“I’ll handle packing tonight. You may as well sleep so you aren’t totally useless tomorrow,” Eli huffed but his voice was still leagues gentler than it had been only a short while ago, pulling the cloth from Tretij’s face to see if he was still bleeding. He wasn’t. “You still have to help, so don’t think you get off that easily just because you’re sick. I’m not going to do everything by myself.” He wiped Tretij’s face with the clean side of the torn sleeve, the gesture softer than the smaller boy would have believed him capable of, especially after what had just occurred. His quivering hands were taking hold of Eli’s wrist before he could pull away entirely, Tretij coughing and tasting the blood and phlegm in his mouth, a disgusting mix.

“If I am not your friend… why are you doing this?” Tretij’s voice was hoarse, Eli allowing him this, gaze steady as he pried Tretij’s hands away. He said nothing, which only made the tension that much worse. “You say it many times that you can live alone, but then you are nice? If you don’t need me now, then why? It is cruel, can’t you see it?” Now he was crying, feeling the streaks of tears down his face and not missing the way Eli frowned as if offended by the sight of it - offended by such blatant weakness. “It would be easy if you hated me, too.” His stomach felt achingly empty as it continued to knot itself up, Eli’s lip curling as he pulled Tretij to his feet.

“Well I don’t, so stop sniveling,” He growled, taking Tretij back to the blanket pile they called a bed and pushing him down, hands on his shoulders to keep him from fighting his enforced rest. At this distance Tretij could sense Eli’s annoyance with him, and strangely more so, with himself. “I’m not discussing this with you tonight, you’re a mess and I have better things to do than argue this with you. So go. To. _Sleep._ ” He grit out the words and impressed them upon the slighter boy, Tretij sinking down by the power of suggestion. Satisfied with his intimidation Eli released him and stood, eyes difficult to read before he left.

As awful as things felt now, Tretij couldn’t help but worry what they would be like tomorrow, wrapping the covers around him like a second skin and praying that with some sleep, things might be different. Eli’s mind was still rumbling hotly, the redhead wondering what exactly he was going to come up with by morning. Maybe Eli would change his mind, or maybe Tretij’s illness would become so severe that he would decide to leave him here to die; somehow, he couldn’t imagine a positive scenario, after the fight they had. But only time would tell, Tretij closing his eyes to the fretfulness that invaded his head, distantly aware through the painful mental haze of a cool cloth placed on his forehead that finally settled his mind for good.

* * *

When Tretij awoke, his only thought was that he wished he hadn’t. His head felt as though it were stuffed with sand, heavy and terrible as he struggled to sit up, the sensation similar to a cold but far worse than any he had endured before. Eli was nowhere to be seen but Tretij could sense him in another room, alert and vibrant, the spot next to him in bed still warm indicating that he had only gotten up a short time ago. Tretij’s senses had become so dulled he hadn’t known when the other boy came or went, perpetually-bruised eyes heavy with fatigue when Eli walked back into view. He really had become attuned to the psychic’s mind, closer than even Tretij initially believed, looking at his lap where his hands clenched the stained blankets instead of at the blond. They regarded each other warily, the behavior of yesterday still a fresh wound between them.

“It’s still early if you want to go back to sleep,” Eli started, his own voice rough and the shadows under his eyes telling of just how late he must have been up. Light had only just begun creeping in through the thin and moth-bitten curtains they’d put up, dusty and yellow as it stretched across the floor. “We'll have to use your power at some point, so you’ll need to be rested for it, understand?” His voice was gravel, Tretij nodding but making no other move to talk, coughing dryly and his head spinning as Eli vanished again into the soft light in the kitchen. He couldn’t sense any animosity, nothing but strained exhaustion from the other boy, and yet in his mind the empath couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, the yelling to resume and the shame to return, nothing left to give. 

There was little rest to be gained and even less in terms of things going with them, Tretij noted, when he was roused again to get ready to leave before noon. Changes of clothes, food and water, a couple of books that Eli claimed would make good kindling, and the undeniable clink of seashells buried deep inside one of the packs. He was still acting coolly towards Tretij, not answering more than he had to; Tretij wanted think the other boy was just focused on their day but he knew it wasn’t true, curled in on himself until Eli pressed a small breakfast of bread and meat into his hands, reminding him to eat. It wouldn’t do much for his energy or his nausea but it was necessary nonetheless, doing his best to hobble after the blond until they were ready to strike out, both with heavy packs to carry.

The tension now reminded Tretij of their escape from the island into Africa, neither having known the other well enough at that point for the sort of stress they were being put under; but here it was as if they knew one another perhaps a little too well, the feeling no longer comforting but awkward as they struggled to understand their redefined boundaries. Eli was able to speak well enough for them both to get them through the train station, Tretij’s sickly look bundled in all his clothes providing a well enough deterrent from anyone getting too close as they headed back to Prague on the afternoon train. Eli didn’t actively look to comfort though he stayed close, the empath leaning on his shoulder and exhausted from even this short distance.

It didn’t bode well for the rest of their journey, their arrival in the city met with Tretij growing only more unwell, surrounded by so many people he couldn’t defend his mind properly from in his weakened state. Had Eli felt more giving there would still be little he could do other than figure out how to charter them on the next train to Germany as fast as possible, seeking out a tour group to hide in again as the psychic shook with all the effort required to keep from passing out and making a scene. It did them little good in the end, having to leave the station as the patrolling guards made Tretij physically ill with fear and worry, his feverish mind unable to distinguish safety from the potential danger imposed. Even Eli’s growling in his ear felt far away and muddled, knowing he must have been warning him off of choosing this moment to collapse, though there was little he could do to prevent it as he staggered away for a modicum of privacy in the nearest side street before removing his scarf to vomit against the brick and black out.

Eli wasn’t quite as livid as Tretij would have thought he would be upon regaining consciousness, slumped against a clean section of the wall with the other boy squatting nearby, balisong carefully folded into his palm in case he needed to lash out quickly to protect them. If anything he was withdrawn, thinking over their next course of action deeply enough that Tretij could feel the flow of thoughts like a river running through his aching head, alerting the blond that he was awake when he tried to move with pitiful sounds of pain that had Eli planting a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. It wasn’t an ideal spot to stay in, cold and wet on the street and leaving them potentially exposed to be found with the acrid smell of bile too close for comfort, but he supposed Eli wouldn’t have done it without reason.

“I’m sorry.” Tretij rasped, his jaw stiff and his mouth tasting as bad as the scent of the gutter, with a twinge like he had been sucking on a bar of metal. Eli glanced at him then, and the empath could better see the fatigue etched around his eyes, a press of irritation as his plans fell apart, uncertainty plaguing his thoughts. He pushed himself hard as their leader, particularly now that Tretij was mostly indisposed by illness; he was more annoyed with the situation at the moment than by Tretij, which was a relief to sense, but also provided no help to their current predicament. The psychic’s hand inched toward the other boy’s before he thought better of it, remembering that Eli’s concern of their situation was, more likely, tied to getting them both out of this country before things worsened, and less related to Tretij’s comfort.

“You won’t make it on the train line,” Eli’s voice almost as rusty, creaking from the cold. “There’s no way we can rely on you like this; if you get any worse we’ll have no defenses. We hardly have any now.” Eli turned to eye a few people walking by on their way to the city square, none of them looking too closely fortunately. Tretij couldn’t think to argue it, although it only made him more frightened thinking of what that left their options to be. Eli was grabbing his elbow before his worry could stir him up too much again, keeping his attention. “We might have a better chance hitchhiking out. Get on some truck heading up that way; we can hide in whatever they’re shipping. Maybe you’ll start feeling better once we get away from the city.” He let go and Tretij sighed out a breath he hadn’t quite realized he was holding. It was a good a plan as any, eyes bleary as he nodded.

There was only so much daylight to get moving by and Eli was intent on not wasting any of it, pulling Tretij along as the smaller boy staggered, desperate to rest even knowing their situation. He was relying on Eli for perhaps more solidarity than he should have been, digging deeply into his mind for peace and not scolded too much for it as the other boy was preoccupied, off to find something he didn't bother mentioning. The issue was getting there, making their way across the city with frequent breaks for Tretij to catch his breath, what little money Eli had swiped used for bus fares that kept it from being as bad as it could be. They had made it to the right place before it began to get dark, Tretij curious how Eli would even have known there was a trucking company all the way out here. Perhaps he had asked while he was recovering or nodding off on the bus, or possibly even mapped it out when they had stayed in Prague all that time before. It wouldn’t surprise Tretij to know Eli plotted for every possible turn of events in his downtime.

But it was here Tretij had to assist, Eli unable to know which way each truck was going without putting them both in too much danger of being spotted, not enough people to blend in with. Now on the outskirts of the city Tretij was improving marginally, at least enough to manage this much as Eli slipped them in closer, grounded him while he read what he could from each person about to go on their nighttime deliveries. There was something odd Tretij couldn’t put his finger on about the destination Eli picked for them, Chomutov a strangely familiar name on his tongue though Eli complained that it would be the best they would get as they ran out of options. At least the cargo was merely boxes instead of something like animals, both waiting until the driver was distracted to climb into the back. It took a bit more persuasion from the psychic to convince the man to get on the road without checking his freight one last time, breathing heavy with the exertion of it by the time the doors closed, shivering despite his multiple layers.

“How are you feeling now?” Eli asked as the truck began to lurch, the darkness around them making it impossible to see at all until the blond pulled a flashlight from his bag. It wasn’t much but it would do, handing it off to Tretij while he reached in again for their canteens and dried food. Tretij was fairly certain he had some sweets in there as well, but didn’t dare to ask, instead taking a long drink of water for his parched throat before frowning at the thought of answering the question. A shrug or shake of his head didn’t seem enough, yet more pressingly, he couldn’t understand why Eli would ask now. If Tretij was usable, that was enough to him, wasn’t it? Yet telling the other boy that he was fine to keep moving only made him scowl, not the answer he wanted.

“That isn’t what I asked,” Eli snapped, teeth tearing into a package of dried beef strips before handing it over, frightening with the flashlight illuminating his face from underneath. “I’m asking for your health, not mine. If you’re going to vomit again I would prefer to know it ahead of time. If you’re sick it affects us both, you realize.” He chewed at his food like a wild animal, Tretij’s already minuscule appetite diminishing at the sight though he was goaded on to eat all the same. It was a bit too salty, but at least it kept him from tasting anything else. Eli watching him so closely was beginning to make him nervous, turning aside with shoulders hunched as if he could protect himself when the other boy still had easy access to his emotional state, displeased by the empath’s sudden shyness.

“Are you still on about the other night?” he asked, disgruntled at the thought of bringing it back up, Tretij staying quiet as Eli scoffed. “I was hoping you were having some fever fit and wouldn’t remember it.” He sounded as if the whole event had been only a temporary annoyance, or at least like he would have preferred it that way, scratching at the side of his neck as he braced his feet on a box in time for them both to be jostled in a rough turn. Tretij’s heavy head banging into cardboard did little to fix his solemn mood, hissing in pain and startled when Eli wordlessly leaned over to rearrange his footing so it wouldn’t happen again. He wished he could see the friendliness in the action but all the psychic could do was question motives, rubbing at his head and withdrawn until Eli became much more irritated.

“If you’re going to keep huffing and puffing because I wouldn’t let you argue for staying here, then be my guest!” Eli snarled, fist crumpling up the empty food packaging shortly before he planted it in the side of a box, the cardboard giving slightly. Tretij flinched further, only his eyes peeking over the edge of his scarf glancing across and wondering if he should. “You think I’m like those adults, telling you what to do because I want to control you? If I wanted to do that I wouldn’t need to leave the bloody country for it! I’m telling you because I want you to actually survive!” In the aftermath of his outburst only the roar of the truck could be heard, both looking at the other as if waiting for something to happen, unnerved. Eli, as usual, was the one to break the silence, softer but serious serious, “If it takes being your partner instead of your friend to make you listen, then that’s what I’ll do. So don’t compare me to them.”

Tretij’s eyes widened at that, now Eli’s turn to look away into the dark as they had nothing left they could think to say, too caught up in their own thoughts and worries to bring about anything else. There was an uneasy energy that filled the cargo hold until their destination a fortunately short enough time later, thankful for the distraction of finding a place to stay for the night as they crept from the maze of boxes to the street, settling down in the first inn they came across, the hour late enough now that even with his frailty Tretij could navigate them safely to a room. Being free of Prague made things somewhat easier but he still struggled to stay upright after even a small expenditure of energy, asleep fully clothed before Eli finished his usual rituals to secure their space.

Although nothing else seemed to be going right, at least Eli allowed Tretij some time to sleep in and regain his strength for the next morning, what little good it did him. Better hardly meant healed, the psychic needing to lean on Eli in his lightheaded state as the other boy plotted out their course with the hopes that Tretij would improve the further out they got from people and the source of the psychic’s draining illness. Taking a vehicle going out of the country on the main roads would be too taxing on Tretij’s health as it would no doubt be subject to intense scrutiny, Eli explained as the other boy fought falling back asleep on his arm; they would have to find a way to get as close to an unguarded portion of the border and make a break for it. There was plenty of unattended wilderness in which to manage it, though they would have to hope Tretij was feeling better to cross from East to West Germany. 

“It shouldn’t be too bad, even you can walk it,” Eli was pouring over their map, Tretij unsure if they should trust it at all. There was no telling the accuracy of it when it came to using it to escape, way too many possibilities, though what choice did they have? “We can get across the border in an afternoon, if we leave from around here and go north,” Eli circled a small town with his finger out to the east, another familiar name. “We can hitch a ride, or I can steal a car… Easy enough, right?” Eli was rolling up the map and Tretij felt like he understood their plan no better, nodding his head just to keep the conversation going; Eli was the expert at these things, had kept them alive this long, he would rather trust him than fight his fatigue to imagine any potential pitfalls.

“ _Snadné jak facka,_ ” Tretij warbled and patted his hand lazily over Eli's cheek in his sleepy state, his partner quiet for a second before snorting and ready to go, another day of blurred city streets and the stink of public transportation barely registering as Eli led them. Thankfully they didn’t have to go through the trouble of thievery, though being stowed away in the back of an animal feed truck was hardly a good time, the psychic unable to get comfortable. Not that he would have stayed settled for long, having hardly gotten accustomed to the bumps and jerks of the vehicle before they reached their destination, Eli’s eyes focused outward on something Tretij couldn’t see. He really did look every bit of their leader like that, a trace of what the boys in Africa must have seen in him in that moment, determination etched into his features with his hair blown back by the wind. The whole scene was only slightly undermined by some errant straw that kept getting caught in his windswept mane.

Eli still allotted them the rest of the day before they made a break for it first thing in the morning, taking the time to bulk up their supplies while Tretij took it easy per his partner's orders. It didn’t make him feel better to be left alone, useless there and here, fretting in their small, dingy hideaway they’d taken for the night. He really couldn’t stay upset with the other boy when he was making such an effort, and somehow it only made Tretij all the more upset, knowing how weak-willed he was doing no favors to his ego. But with Eli’s outburst the other day, it seemed true that he really did care for Tretij’s wellbeing; after all, they weren’t leaving Czechoslovakia because Eli was tired of it, and even citing potential unrest wasn’t his immediate concern. It had been Tretij’s health first and foremost, and that was pretty telling on its own. 

By the time the other boy returned shortly before dusk, Tretij was sheepish, embarrassed to remember the way he had fought for nothing, demanding of Eli when it was clear enough from his partner’s actions that he cared more than he would say aloud. He would never have done these things for someone else, would never have gone this far for anyone but himself, had they not bonded in some way. Even if Eli shied from calling them friends, Tretij was placated knowing actions spoke loudly on their own, much calmer in his mind that evening as he came to terms with all these changes. Eli seemed curious as to the shift although he didn’t ask after it, merely reminding the redhead to eat and drink, a hand at Tretij’s forehead confirming that his fever had died down somewhat. Still the mortification lingered in shades of pink on his scarred cheeks, eventually hidden in the dark as he slept with his face pressed to the warm space between Eli’s shoulders.

They were out of the room shortly after dawn, packs heavy on their shoulders to prepare for the worst as they trudged roughly north by Eli’s guess and cracked compass. The air was still cool enough to see their breaths in soft white mists, dew soaking into their trousers as they left the beaten path heading into the fields, the wilderness; somehow Tretij wasn’t afraid, though he was tired, hardly able to keep his breakfast down as the day grew warmer and the chill vanished, replaced by the sun beginning to beat down along their backs. Stopping often wasn’t enough of a reprieve for the withered empath to truly get better, his heart pounding away in his chest with an empty feeling, as if he had no blood left to pump; dehydration wasn’t a quick fix when they were walking like this, losing more fluids out by sweat and sick than he was able to take in. Even floating required effort and energy the psychic couldn’t really afford to expend. 

Eli wasn’t ignorant to this fact either, watching Tretij struggle and drawing his lips into a thin line, turning his pack around to his front with the seriousness of someone gearing up to do something they would much rather not, the pull of his brow extenuating his perspiration. Although he said nothing Tretij put the pieces together in short order once Eli kneeled, stiff in the shoulders with his back to the other boy. Still, the idea was so foreign to Tretij, not once in his time getting to know Eli had he ever believed he was capable of the humility to offer something like this. He stared with such obvious surprise that the leader of their little expedition rolled his eyes, telling him he wasn’t going to wait forever, and that Tretij would be wise to get on now before he changed his mind. Neither really knew what to say about this sort of instance as Tretij did as he was told, his weight hardly enough to match the combined total of their bags but plenty to make Eli sway and grunt as he stood up, a small jump to settle the redhead in place against the curve of his spine before they were off again.

Tretij was sure this couldn’t be easy, felt the way Eli’s mind stirred when he dared to put his head down on his shoulder, the stink of unwashed clothes and the steady sway of the blond’s gait beneath him an acceptable lullaby to his tired body. Truly deep sleep eluded him but he felt better at each interval where he woke enough to hear Eli’s quietly contemplative thoughts and slowly regain his other senses, a cool breeze ruffling his hair and his fingers twitching where his arms were draped around Eli's neck to keep him from slipping off. When he squinted into the sunlight the scenery was changed and yet still familiar, the blond having found an unpaved path to walk along, dirt and some gravel, a splintered wooden sign too faded to read laying forgotten in the grass. Where the shade of newly-blooming trees stretched across the road was the spot Eli decided to break, giving the smaller boy only a brief mental warning before he released his legs and let him slide down, Tretij wobbling before he regained feeling enough in his stiff joints to stand on his own.

“You were out for a while; was kind of nice to be able to walk more than a mile without having to stop and listen to you heaving,” Eli told him, no ill intent and only teasing in that typical brusque manner of his. If anything, Tretij could tell he was glad for Tretij’s rest, no longer subject to the empath’s mind projecting all its awful symptoms onto him. They came to sit in the shade, Eli distributing their rations for lunch and warning Tretij to eat it all. “Can’t be too sure where we are now, hasn’t been anything to look at out here for hours now. But no people means no soldiers either, so can’t say I mind it.” He pressed the canteen into Tretij’s arm as the redhead chewed at a hard piece of bread, Tretij scowling at the mother-henning but saying nothing. Eli meant well, though he tended to transfer his bossiness into every aspect of his life. 

Eli peeled off his outer layers after he ate and before they walked again into the glare of the sun, leaving Tretij feeling simultaneously disgusted and awful for the sweat that darkened the fabric all along Eli’s back. Having to carry him wasn’t easy at all, Tretij knowing he had only agreed out of necessity, a commander’s pride a hard thing to compromise. The psychic was immensely grateful that the other boy left on his lightest shirt, nevertheless still grimacing when Eli picked him up once more and he had the cool wet soaking up on his front, swallowing his nausea before he wasted everything he just ate. He didn’t feel much for sleeping now despite his full stomach, something about this road, this place, catching his eye and tugging at something deep in his mind. Like a memory attempting to resurface, bubbling up from the depths yet remaining frustratingly elusive.

Those swirling thoughts and the consternation around them had Eli huffing in irritation before long, so close that neither could properly tune the other out. Eli preferred the silence, wanted Tretij to sleep so he could think but the more they went along this path the faster Tretij’s heart was beating until it was a drum in both their ears; Tretij’s voice strange as he asked if Eli could feel it too, something about this place that made him nervous for no discernible reason. Not that Eli could, grousing that it was probably Tretij’s illness acting up, making him sense something, playing on his anxieties. His powers did have a tendency to go into overdrive at the slightest provocation, jumping at shadows until Eli had to let him down, the buzz of energy making the psychic twitchy, pulled toward something unforeseen. 

It was a deviation in the road that started snapping the final pieces into place, the other pathway overgrown with weeds signaling that it had not been in use for some time. Without the tracks of wheels or the tread of feet it looked unbearably lonely, forgotten out here in the world with nobody to notice it except two children on their way past; but Tretij had stopped, pulse in his ears when he realized what he was looking at, knew instinctively that call that held him fast now. He was answering it without meaning to, feet unsteady and his ears muffled by the rush of blood as he started down it, leaving his mark in the soil, the bent stalks of plants crushed underfoot. Eli was calling after him but Tretij was deaf to it in that moment, only managing to stay ahead of the other boy because he wasn’t weighted down. 

Eventually the yelling ceased and Eli had to preserve his breath for catching up, a mile or more off track when Tretij came to a halt before open grassland, fields of green dotted with wildflowers in a smattering of yellows and reds with a dash of blue, oddly deformed trees that had clung to life and survived some horrible blow to their beings standing tall on bent trunks. What Tretij had thought were large, jagged stones were actually broken wooden beams scorched, molded with rot and littered about, a few steps into the field finding remains of cracked and blackened cobblestone hidden beneath the grass. It seized his breath in his throat, eyes fixated on it, unable to reconcile what he remembered to what was now here. Eli was at his shoulder in a short time, anger clear as he snapped at the smaller boy for running off but stopped with annoyance born of being ignored when he noticed the distant look, the small quiver to Tretij’s shoulders. 

“Why are we here? What is this place, Tretij?” Eli asked but without nearly so much irritation when the psychic grabbed his hand, his fingers cool and clammy in the blond's grip. Tretij could sense his puzzlement yet was unable to think clearly over it, his mind a torrent of emotion that didn’t allow for speech. There was still energy here, seeped into the very dirt under them, feelings of rage and anguish and pain pulling him in so many different directions at once. He knew Eli’s patience was wearing thin, confusion and concern hidden beneath his aggravation as the boy snapped his question again, holding Tretij’s hand tighter and pulling him close where the redhead had started to stumble away, starlight eyes wide and unfocused as he opened and closed his mouth a few times before he could speak.

“ _Domov_ … my home…. This was my _home,_ ” Tretij rasped painfully, slipping from his partner's grasp and filled with the urge to vomit again as it sank in fully that this was where he had grown up, all of his memories of his previous life were here, and where even was here now? There was nothing left, humanity overtaken by nature, oblivious to any past suffering. He had known that it would be like this by the reports that told him as much, spoke extensively of fire and death at his hands, and yet the reality of seeing it weighed on him so much more heavily, made him wish that he could cry and rend his flesh from his bones to make the whispering that rose from the earth stop. Eli clutched him around his middle again before he could crumple to the ground, quiet as Tretij noticed him pressing into his head too; but this was shockingly calmer, gentler, soothing and silencing to keep him safe from his own damnation. A noble goal for all the good it did.

For once Eli said nothing, no observations to speak that would make things better, the slighter of the pair growing numbed to it all now as Eli kept the worst sparks of his thoughts from growing into larger wildfires. Tretij wasn’t sure if he was thankful for it as the quiet of this place consumed them without so much as the chirps of birds to disturb the soft swish of deep grass parting before them, as if animals knew instinctively to avoid the area. Tretij pulled the other boy with him as he stumbled forward, his body remembering the roads that had once been here and following the memory despite finding nothing but broken ruins half hidden in the dirt, the places where shops and houses once stood reclaimed by the ground they used to occupy. If not for the few remains and the lingering energy of his first true psychic awakening he would have doubted this used to be his village at all.

The power that clawed into them only grew stronger and more distressing as they went on, Tretij knowing why as he was guided by it, sickened and not sure if he was ready to see the last piece of his past laid so bare before him. Even with Eli’s strength bolstering him it didn’t feel wise to come this way, but deep down Tretij knew he wouldn’t be able to walk away now without always missing some part of himself, back to recollect and come to terms with what he had done. Eli had begun to sense the lingering presence of this place too, Tretij able to tell not just by the tense rise of emotion but by the way his head swiveled, focused then unfocused, looking for something he couldn’t define, a loose but certain sense of danger. His hold on Tretij’s hand was almost painful, fragile bones squeezed to the point of creaking though Tretij didn’t complain.

“Where are we going? We can’t be wandering around here, we have a plan, or don’t you remember?” Eli sounded as if he wanted to be angry, but in the moment was distracted by something else. Tretij was held back by the strength of Eli’s grasp, unwilling to let the psychic lead for a moment longer without a proper explanation to this whole runaround. When Tretij finally looked back at him he could see the discomfort, the nervousness he would have rather hidden, staring down the redhead as if he wanted to read his mind and know what Tretij knew. Tretij thought bitterly that Eli should be happy he couldn’t see that far, forced to know all the disgusting sins of the world in addition to his own, playing out constantly in his head. Instead the empath was pointing just ahead to the crest of a small incline, the trees that had once surrounded it bent and bowed outward as if they were trying to escape what lay there, having never quite recovered like the others. 

Tretij was sure he was going to be sick, shaking so badly he could barely walk the path he used to take every day, slipping on the grass and only kept upright by Eli as he staggered forward. Once at the top the echoing chorus of his own demons sank to a low howl, finding the remnants of his childhood home to be nothing but a broken concrete slab, the foundation charred and some flowers managing to creep up through the cracks as the only spots of color amidst the heart of his destruction. He had to let go of Eli to touch it as he stumbled near, dragging his scarred fingers over the ruins of his old world. He thought he should be crying, screaming, something more than this emptiness he had left inside him now, the anticipation of what this represented leaving him hollow. It was Eli coming back up behind him that drew him from his stupor, the both of them coming to sit on the edge of what had once been the entryway.

“This is the place you have nightmares about,” Eli said, not a question but a statement of fact, Tretij silent and still beside him. “Looks a little different than how you remember it.” He deadpanned, setting his bag down with a sigh as Tretij made a sound much too bitter to be a laugh and too airy to be a sob, slipping out unbidden. That somehow broke a dam deep inside, Tretij covering his face as these strange noises continued spilling out like water, morphing into something more recognizable as he choked on them, tears starting to prick at the corner of his eyes. Eli knew well enough the change was because of Tretij; knew the psychic’s dreams about fire swallowing a whole town, burning him into ash, almost as well as his own.

“This is the first time I see it, since then,” Tretij rasped, wishing he could empty his stomach of all these emotions, let his body rid himself of it all like a fever scorching him from the inside. “I don’t remember… only the hospital, and then…” He trailed off, no need to elaborate there when Eli had seen those scenes many times before in his head. “I was scared…. I’m scared now, too.” Tretij wiped at his face, shaking at the shoulders and wondering if he should have come back at all. Eli was stiff and quiet, allowing Tretij his time to grieve over this thing he didn’t understand himself. “I still feel it, it tells me to come here, but I don’t know… what should I feel?” He sniffed and Eli had no answer, leaning back on his arms and looking up at the sky.

“Don’t know,” Eli didn’t seem all that concerned; a bastion of calm to Tretij’s growing pyre. Tretij wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn’t find it inside himself to think it mattered. “You can feel however you want to about it, but you must have done it for a reason, right?” he asked and Tretij pulled his knees to his chest, so small out here in this big world of his own crafting. He had never wanted to revisit this place, this memory, but in pushing it down he wondered if it gave this village that much more power, fueled by these imaginary phantoms that lived in his mind, damning him over and over. There had never been a time he could fully reconcile his fear with the outcome, shaking his head until his curls fell across his face.

“My father was… going to kill me.” Tretij spoke, voice hoarse and realizing this was the first time he was truly telling the story aloud since it had happened. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to start talking, other than perhaps some hope that it would give Eli enough perspective to give him advice to make sense of this thing that he carried with him. Eli was listening intently now too, turned to look at him and waiting for more, an amazing amount of patience for the other boy to work through this after he had already sent them astray from their path. “He would tell me, Jarek, you are useless, stupid. Always angry at me, I didn’t know why. I wanted to be good, but nothing changes.” He hiccuped, as if realizing only now how ridiculous it was to have wanted approval from his father. A futile errand, like chasing geese or however the saying Eli told him went.

“My power… it woke up, and I wanted… Wanted to make him see, I was useful!” Tretij made a sound akin to laughter but strangely warped, sitting up and looking at nothing, hands at the side of his face to find his scars, dizzy and manic. He should have known back then that it would all end in tears. “Father, he was angry. I try… I tried to see his head, see his thinking, what could I do, I thought? But I saw that he hated me. More than anything.” He glanced askance, eyes hazy and fixed on Eli, who was sitting up and watching him with a look that was hard to decipher. Impressed, perhaps, or maybe put off, confused. Tretij didn’t blame him. “I killed my mother when I was born so, he was going to kill me. He didn’t want me, nobody wanted... I shouldn’t have been alive, but I was. I couldn’t control it, I was very scared and then I…” He trailed off, stuck on the memory of that surge of fear, crackling through his veins and bursting free into flames.

“You killed him. And took everything else, too.” Eli finished for him and Tretij nodded, the tears that had started bubbling up before rolling down his cheeks now as he slumped his forehead to Eli’s shoulder. There was no judgement in Eli’s tone, Tretij reaching for him like a child seeking to be comforted, holding on to Eli’s hand with those memories clawing their way out, too close to the surface to be contained. He knew Eli could see them then, flashes behind his eyes in frightening detail of a village burning down, streets slick with gore and the labored breathing of a boy who shouldn’t have left the carnage with his life. It was too much, far too much to be properly contained in Tretij’s emotional state, bleeding through until it was actual blood that began to leak from Eli’s face; it might have looked like he was the one crying if not for the color, dripping from his eyes and nose.

Tretij’s hand left Eli’s immediately with a panicked squawk, unable to do more as Eli reached for his face, smearing red across his cheek and frozen with uncertainty on how to proceed as he realized what was happening. Maybe it didn’t necessarily hurt more than a particularly bad headache but it was unsettling nonetheless, Tretij having never caused this sort of volatile reaction without killing the person in question, which made his own blood run cold; but Eli was still breathing, still moving as Tretij stammered apologies in English and Czech, afraid to touch skin to skin again and left with balling up the ends of his overlong sleeves to wipe at Eli’s face in repentance. The scene was akin to Tretij’s own nosebleed, although this time Eli didn’t allow himself to be fussed over for long before he was asserting that he was fine, pushing Tretij back. The bleeding had stopped when Tretij let go, and beyond the headache and fright, there didn’t seem to be any lasting effects, Eli spitting out a glob of mucous tinted with blood onto the ground.

“Didn’t know you could do that.” Eli sounded calm but the empath could sense he was unnerved, hiding it under a veneer of resilience. No doubt he was picking up on Tretij’s anxiousness, too. Eli wasn’t all that interested in being told sorry, pushing through and rubbing at his face until it was a myriad of bloody streaks, not unlike how he sometimes looked after he’d gotten into a fight back in Africa. Tretij hesitated to explain this had never happened to someone who walked away after, instead working around the knot in his throat to admit that, like this, his control was lacking; it was hard, having his emotion build and build until it sought some unfortunate outs, resonating inside people until it made them bleed. Eli didn’t seem entirely convinced he was getting the full story but he let it pass, perhaps knowing that vulnerability well enough to not exacerbate it.

“That’s what happened before, isn’t it? It’s like you turn into some sort of bomb.” Eli asked, seemingly rhetorical as Tretij sank into himself more, not enjoying being likened to a weapon over something he couldn’t help and would rather not have to deal with; the answer to that question was pretty clear, Eli moving on without continuing that particular line of questioning. “Well… At least you got to be the one to kill him - I didn’t even manage that with my own father. Serves him right for all the shit he put you through.” Eli let out a long breath as if to release the tension, looking out across where the village in Tretij’s memory used to be. Tretij didn’t speak, not sure if his thoughts were the kind Eli wanted to hear. The other boy wasn’t ignorant to his trepidation however, using their linked minds and bumping into Tretij’s shoulder to get his attention back to himself. “You must have hated him too by the end, didn’t you? He was punishing you for something you couldn’t help. You didn’t ask to be born.” The way Eli said it, bitterness bitten off between his teeth, Tretij could tell he was coloring it with his own experiences, his own DNA and rejection.

“No,” Tretij heard his voice tremble, knew Eli couldn’t wrap his head around it and yet he had no other answer to give, close enough to see the bewilderment written on the other boy’s face. “He was my father… I don’t hate him. I know I should but I…” his words trailed off, mind scrambled and not sure where to begin sorting through it all. He hadn’t considered these feelings in so long, wanted to keep them neatly filed away, but Eli wouldn’t allow for that. “I took what he loved, but he still did okay, he tried. I know I was no good… He…” Tretij swallowed, pulling deep and happy when Eli pressed into him a little harder, a reminder of support. “I remember, he tried with me, when I was very small. Tried to love, but I was never good.” They were the only memories of his father where he wasn't upset with Tretij over something, fuzzy with time to the point Tretij couldn’t even be certain he hadn’t made them up anymore. The psychic sniffed, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “I would hate me, too.”

Eli didn’t speak for some time, but Tretij could feel how vexed he was, this emotion stirring without the words he needed to go with them, tense over their shared minds. Tretij didn’t expect anything, knowing there was no fix, no answer that would make this better. So pathetic he couldn’t even hate the one person he should. Slipping deeper into this self-flagellation did him no favors and yet he couldn’t help it, tears staining his face as he slowly wrung himself of all this. At least he hadn’t fully repulsed Eli away, not yet. It really made it all the more unexpected when Eli took his hand again, a wave of stillness that he supposed was meant to keep him from building up too much energy a second time. Worry over the same thing happening again was soothed and pushed down, a soft rumble before his partner said anything.

“You said it would be easier if I hated you,” Eli started, contemplative with the same level of enforced calm he used to dissect a battlefield. “Do you think I’m like you’re father then, that I tried with you and now that you’re inconvenient, I should throw you away?” There was a lot of weight to that question, Tretij startled he would even ask it. He didn’t want to meet Eli’s eyes and see the accusation there, an unfair comparison; they were nothing alike. But, Eli was the sort who didn’t keep things around that he couldn’t use, and that certainly pressed a sore spot, Tretij worrying his lip as Eli impressed upon him to answer.

“I don’t want to be thrown away,” He hiccuped, vulnerable and aching when he dared to respond, barely able to face Eli at all after such a harsh blow. “I want to be useful, but I’m like this, and I shouldn’t, I shouldn’t…” He felt his lip wobbling and hated it, gritting his teeth. Weak, too weak. Eli was sighing above his head, the breath puffing over Tretij’s hair as Eli changed their hold, fingers slipped together like lock and key as he waited for Tretij to quiet down enough to listen. Tretij knew it took an inordinate amount of stamina for Eli to talk to him like this without becoming frustrated or angry and wondered how long it would be until it ran out.

“I don’t need you to be useful all the time. I can’t do everything all the time either; we’re people, not machines.” He still sounded so collected, and Tretij wished he could absorb that instead of wallow in these feelings he never wanted. “Be your own person, who cares if you’re not a fit for someone else’s plan? You can’t let other people dictate everything for you.” Tretij made a soft sound in the back of his throat at that, as if that could almost be humorous if not for the way it made his chest ache with how much he wished it were so simple. 

“You decide everything for us, Eli,” He pointed out, knowing the boy in question was scoffing without even looking at him, caught out in his hypocritical stance. “I always think if I’m not useful to you, then… you would go.” Tretij whispered it, as if he were divulging some great secret. In some ways he supposed he was, having never told Eli any of this before, these roots to his anxieties. “When we lost, you were so angry, I thought you were leaving. But then you stay, because I could help you. If I made you too mad, wouldn’t you go forever?” Tretij fretted with the hem of his sweater, coiled tight and reaching for these answers. He could only hope Eli would be receptive to answering, his mind not upset with Tretij from what he could see, but perhaps slightly exasperated.

“I guess I would if it came to that, but that isn’t the case now. And I decide things based on what’s best for the both of us, because we’re partners, not on how convenient you are at any given moment.” Eli explained, Tretij wiggling his fingers slightly in his grip as if to remind himself of reality outside their chat. “So stop talking about yourself like you’re some thing, because you aren’t. We’re the only ones we’ve got, and you’re…” Eli paused, looking briefly as if he had eaten something sour as he swallowed whatever he had meant to say. Tretij was curious, but daren’t try to look deeper when things were already so fragile. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else, so feel lucky.” He finished gruffly, the hand not holding Tretij’s scrubbing at his eyes where remnants of blood still clung to the corners.

“You say it like we are friends.” Tretij brought up hesitantly, watching Eli’s face carefully and gauging his reaction to it. It wasn’t particularly favorable, Eli clicking his tongue but not speaking over the empath when he explained, “I don’t have friends before, so maybe I don’t know, but it feels like we are. Can you not be partners and friends? Even if maybe you say no, I still think you are my friend.” He spoke gently, wanting so badly to know and figure this out even if the word was mostly formality at this point; though with Eli, titles and ranks were important. It was not something Eli wanted to answer however, by the way he looked at Tretij as if he had asked him to explain something as nebulously subjective as art.

“What is your obsession with this?” He grumbled, on the offensive now but not too threatening, Tretij leaning away to keep eye contact but not letting him go. “What is it that makes you think we’re friends? Everything we’ve done is because we have the same goals; that doesn’t necessarily mean anything else.” It was a thin explanation on the surface, Tretij looking back with some scrutiny and asking what this goal even was. Eli seemed to be happy for that small shift in subject, clarifying, “I’m going to finally kill my father one day, and you’re going to help me, of course. We aren’t there yet but we will be.” He seemed proud to think of this imagined future where he finally has his revenge, a dry smirk on chapped lips. “You got yours, and next I’ll get mine.”

“But after?” Tretij interjected, brows knitting together. Were they just expected to part afterwards, as if debts were repaid and there was nothing left to become of them? If they were friends they could maybe stick together, but with partners it was as if it were a business deal come to fruition. Surely there had to be more to it than that, Eli only shrugging as if he hadn’t thought to plan that far ahead yet. A cursory glance at his thoughts told Tretij he hadn’t.

“How should I know? Maybe we’ll have something else to do by then.” Eli was unconcerned with Tretij’s fretting, rubbing at a spot of still-wet blood on his collar. “Either way, we don’t have to be friends to accomplish any of it. Probably better that we aren’t, it just makes things complicated.” He said it as if he believed there had to be that sense of distance, of near-professionalism; but Tretij was sure nobody lived like they did without that changing, sharing everything from beds to thoughts. Eli’s expression was falling, withdrawing as he added, “What we have it… just isn’t like that.”

“That’s not true,” Tretij spoke without even being entirely sure of it, a reflexive action to Eli shutting him out. Eli snorted, clearly not convinced. “You say we can’t be friends, but you are my friend. You… you kept me safe from adults, and gave me food, hold my hand!” Tretij clasped their palms tighter in reminder, Eli’s frown only growing more unconvinced. “At night we sleep close, and you carry me when I’m sick… nobody else does that for me.” 

“And that’s all it takes for you?” Eli’s voice was oddly cool, Tretij unsure what to make of it even as he nodded. The other boy sighed, baring his teeth, almost as if in pain, hissing through them. “I do those things because if I didn’t, we’d both be worse off. It isn’t all about you, Tretij. Or did you forget what I said about partnership already?” He sounded annoyed, but more of the sort when he was being figured out, Tretij hardly even needing his powers to feel around those emotions and speak his mind.

“But other people, they don’t care, not the same. My father, and Skull Face… Sometimes they make me cry, they don’t care if I hurt, but you, you don’t want me to,” Tretij’s eyes got wider as his voice got thinner, excitement mounting as he figured his way through this, as if he were well on his way to solving this puzzle. Eli was actually looking somewhat stunned, not interrupting just yet as his lips pressed together. “I can hear it, that you want to protect - protect me. You protect things you care about… you protect friends.” He spoke it like a revelation, and by Eli’s silent reaction, he supposed it might have been one of a sort. Maybe not one Eli wanted to hear, however, as he continued to not speak, dwelling on something beyond Tretij’s reach. “Eli…?”

“Just stop talking. You know, for someone who used to not make a peep you sure can’t shut up now.” He was aggressive, pushing outwards; Tretij was familiar with this, not deterred, or at least not entirely, trying to speak gently but cut off. “I don’t need your friendship, I don’t need friends! You think you want to be friends with me because I’ve been nicer to you than most, but that doesn’t _make_ us friends. This is _survival._ ” He pulled his hand from Tretij’s grip, snapping and curling his lip while Tretij shrunk back. The empath swallowed hard, having to fight the defensive fury digging into his mind to speak without his voice trembling.

“If you don’t need friends… why do you care about me? You always like it when I stay close, or… or when I bring you things I find, and help your head when you’re sad! I know it makes you happy, and… and it makes me happy! Why would you like these things when they don't help except for your feelings?” Tretij wrapped his thin fingers around Eli’s arm, felt him tense, watching Tretij as though he might be subject to another nosebleed. But Tretij began to calm with sorrow born of this imposed distance, refusal to allow anything more to become of them. Even if at this point it was almost nothing more than a title to be gained with little change in dynamics, Tretij still wanted it, wanted Eli to be truly open with him, sucking in a shaking breath and pressing his forehead to Eli’s bicep. “Please, Eli… I want to protect you, too.”

There was silence, but it wasn’t unexpected. Tretij tried to find comfort in it, breathing in the smell of Eli’s clothes like he had been not that long ago as he was carried here, holding tight like if he let go, the other boy might get up and leave, perhaps not coming back. His mind was a wall, carefully blank, though when Tretij finally hazarded a glance up he could see the turmoil playing out there, hoping it was favorable. There was no way to know until Eli decided to talk to him, hearing the click of his teeth as the blond worked his jaw, figuring out what he wanted to say. Tretij wondered if he should brace for the worst.

“You aren’t going to let this go, are you?” Eli finally sighed as if this were some great weight on him. Perhaps to him it was, having never gone through this sort of thing before. Not having friends, or really any compatriots that he could trust to do anything beyond follow his order. In the end he had preferred to use them and Tretij didn’t want the same fate, knew that he was already in a different position than the other boys had been and didn’t want to regress. When he nodded that this wasn’t something he could just forget about Eli muttered in irritation, scratching at his greasy hair like a nervous tic.

“I don’t know why this is so important to you, but if you want it so badly…. Then fine. We can try to be _friends._ ” Eli sneered like the word was abhorrent but he seemed sincere about acquiescing, as though it were some huge favor he was put out to agree to. Tretij nearly trilled in excitement, looking up with silvery eyes wide as could be, enthusiasm curbed with uncertainty where he feared Eli might retract his statement. But instead the other boy merely wallowed in frustration, a small tint of color to his face as he glowered at his hands fisted in his lap. The psychic was still skirting the edges of his mind, wondering at the embarrassment that plagued Eli before his eye twitched, turning his glare on Tretij for invading his privacy.

“You look a little…” Tretij was feeling bold now, reinforced and seeking the right words as he remained under that scowl. It made his doubt climb higher, realizing he had perhaps bullied Eli into this, maybe even influenced him somehow; his powers were hard to define, could he want something enough to actually sway someone’s opinion? Eli seemed headstrong and self-aware enough to know when he was being manipulated or read, but if Tretij himself wasn’t fully aware of it, who could say one way or another? “If… if I make you say it, I didn’t mean to. You don’t have to be friends with me. I just wanted…” Tretij chewed at his lip, the rough line of scars under his crooked teeth. He had wanted too much, should have known by now that he could never be like a normal person. 

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I was going to change my mind!” Eli pointed out, grumpy and very much unhappy to have it insinuated that he wasn’t as good as his word. “Do you think I’m like some adult who says one thing and does another? You can’t make me do anything I don’t want to. Or do you not want to be friends now?” His tone was hard but he relaxed a bit when he could see Tretij’s startled expression and assurances that he hadn’t meant to make it seem like he regretted pushing for it. He wanted a genuine friendship, not something only agreed to because Eli wanted him off his back. The apprehension was still there however, Tretij fidgeting nervously and lost wondering if he should have brought it up right now at all. Eli rolling his eyes and taking Tretij by the shoulders brought his attention back around quickly, staring the empath down as though he were the psychic trying to see into Tretij’s head. The intensity of it locked Tretij in place, unable to come up with anything to say under such scrutiny.

He wasn’t thinking at all a few seconds later, however, when Eli held him tight and upright before leaning down to kiss him firmly on the mouth. Tretij wouldn’t exactly call it pleasant, too hard and sudden with the smell of blood stuck in his nose on the startled inhale; but it was over almost as soon as it had begun, Eli pulling away and clearly withholding a grimace while Tretij sat dazed and very, very confused. He couldn’t even quite remember English in the moment, knowing he must have been quite a sight to behold with his mouth slightly agape. Eli’s face got pinker and Tretij could see that he had miscalculated somewhere, with something - it didn’t take long for him to sputter out his explanation for that one, releasing Tretij’s shoulders but his hands still hovering awkwardly.

“You were just going on about how friends kiss not that long ago! I was trying to show you-“ Eli cut himself off, groaning in frustration. Tretij was sure if he had bled now that the color would all blend together with how much he was flushing, doing his best to not laugh at the ridiculousness of this. He barely held it together, lips pressed tight as Eli unleashed his tirade at him. “If you wanted some proof that I’m not lying, there it is! So you can stop moping, thinking I’m going to decide differently; if it wasn’t the only thing that would prove it to you, I wouldn’t have kissed you!” He ranted, worked up along with his intense blush and trying his hardest to cover his tracks now. 

Tretij managed to stop it with no more than a slightly quivering hand touching the center of Eli’s chest to get his attention, using his other to hold his weight as he tilted up to press two chaste kisses in quick succession to both of Eli’s cheeks. That only seemed to baffle the other boy even more, Tretij knowing that Eli believed he was teasing him, poking fun before he clarified to him, “That is how you friend kiss, Eli.” Tretij observed the change of emotion that flowed freely over his face, the dawning realization that Eli had messed up in his intent and now Tretij was more than a little amused by his response. There was no way to help the giggles bubbling up in his throat even as Eli pushed the psychic away, snarling at him that if this was the thanks he got for trying to do something on Tretij’s level, that he was going to just leave him here to get out of Czechoslovakia on his own.

But it was an empty threat and they both knew it, Tretij’s delight fading with the gust of wind rustling his hair, bringing him back into the moment. Talking to Eli had nearly made him forget where he was, so intent on the other boy’s words and actions that he had been able to put aside his other worries and past pains for a little while. His anxieties no longer seemed so bad with a friend by his side, the grass a bit greener and the flowers somewhat brighter as they swayed in the warming spring breeze. This place would never be truly peaceful, but nothing could drag him down into the sin of his past if Eli was there to keep him stable. 

“…You said you dad called you Jarek? Is that your name?” Eli had calmed down from his tantrum now, most likely seeking something to distract from his amazingly off misunderstanding. Hearing that name from Eli’s mouth made Tretij feel distinctly uncomfortable, having forgotten that he had even mentioned it, as carried away as they both had been. “I remember reading some reports about you, they all said Tretij Rebenok but it was a codename, a Russian one. I figured you had another name but I wasn’t about to ask.” Eli still had some tension as he fidgeted, though not nearly so much as Tretij, who debated how to even approach this. 

“Jarek… Jaroslav, yes,” Tretij didn’t even like saying it, his old name bitter with bad memories on his tongue. He could still recall the talk he had with Skull Face, abandoning titles and taking up new ones; he had already left Jarek behind then, and wasn’t much for the idea of picking it up again. “When they take me to Russia, they said Tretij Rebenok would be my new name. I don’t… think I want to go back to Jarek. I am not Jarek anymore.” Even as his voice lilted with sadness for it, Tretij wondered why. Jarek was a lifetime ago, by all means a completely different person, and one he didn’t want to return to. A new stage in his life required a new name. He had already determined that.

“Tretij Rebenok isn’t really a name, though, it’s a codename. Like _Nyoka ya Mpembe._ ” Eli rolled the Kikongo off his tongue easily, as if he still spoke it daily. Tretij had, oddly, grown to miss the sound of it, although when Eli had spoken it most was not at a great point in their lives either. “It meant something like three… Third? Third child, I think.” Eli was almost entirely back to normal in skin tone and demeanor, Tretij listening and letting the gears click in his head. He wasn’t terribly surprised by being called by a number, had an idea of it from his brief foray into Russian before he left; he had told himself it was a name and nothing more, but names still had power to them, if the way he reacted to Jarek was any indication. “I’ll still call you Tretij. You don’t seem to like your old one, I get it.” Eli told him, and Tretij let out a relieved breath, unfurling a bit more.

“Thank you,” Tretij inclined his head a bit, happy that Eli wasn’t going to start using his old name with him. Jarek belonged here, buried in the dirt with all the others, but sometimes Tretij would still think of it and wonder if he would ever know that name in a world apart from his past. “Sometimes I don’t know if I would like it, but maybe for now… Tretij is good. …Do you hate being Eli?” He thought to ask as he talked this out, knowing that Eli had been the name forced on him at his father’s base, losing his other after having been beaten. The child commander had made mention of it more than a few times to the other children, spitting venom at the adults for the longest. Eli tilted his face into the breeze for a moment, one shoulder shrugging.

“Eli is good enough for now. Maybe one day I’ll pick another name, too.” There was something distant to the quality of his voice, Tretij pressing and able to sense some memory far and away being recalled before Eli shoved it away with a small wince. Not something he felt like sharing then, or maybe not something he had wanted to remember at all. There was still so much Tretij wanted to know about those things Eli had buried deep, but he understood the need for privacy and the preference for not talking about it. It was possible that since they were now friends, he would come to divulge it at some point in the future. While it was not a very nice thing to want to see, Tretij couldn’t help but be curious; in his own way, he wanted to show the same support Eli had shown him. His first chance to be a truly good friend - a truly good person.

Tretij’s faraway look proved to be plenty tempting for some mockery he soon learned, Eli scrubbing at his fluffed hair to get his wandering attention. When Tretij looked his burgeoning smile died as quickly as Eli’s good mood, noticing a chunk of his hair having come free, tangled strands of copper around the other boy’s fingers. Tretij was immediately reaching up to touch the rest when Eli grabbed him by his wrists, holding him tightly and warning him off of that with only a look. Tretij’s heart was pounding, wondering just how sick he could be; he thought he was starting to feel better, how could this be good? He had never seen this sort of thing happen with anyone else, hardly held off from panic with Eli doing his best to keep him there. 

“It’s only hair, it’ll grow back,” He was somewhere between being flippant and trying to sound certain but Tretij wasn’t sure how to believe it, nauseated all over again in his disquiet. He didn’t want to look deeper this time to know if Eli was only saying that, or if he was sure. “Just… try not to pull on it.” He added lamely, letting go to discard the hair he had accidentally removed as Tretij shook with fear for the addition of this to his current problems. Eli wasn’t the best when it came to comfort, but he was back to helping as best as he could manage after a few moments, brushing back Tretij’s bangs with more care than he usually bothered with to check his temperature. Inconclusive, Tretij thought, by the way his brow began to crease.

“This place is what’s making you sick. We have to get going.” Eli said it and was on his feet, putting his pack back on with no time to waste. “I doubt visiting here helped with it at all; you’re stressing too much on top of it.” He was stern, pointing to Tretij’s decision to make a break for coming to his once-village as a cause for this new symptom. Tretij was putting his bag on too, standing so wearily that it looked like a decent wind could topple him over. He was thankful when Eli took him onto his back, a legitimately friendly gesture as they started again, walking past all the invisible markers Tretij could still see in his mind. 

Even if it wasn’t helpful to his immediate health, Tretij still looked upon this place and was glad that he had come. He needed to see it, to know the full scale of his own destruction; and if he had never returned, he would likely never have spoken to Eli about it either, never managed to get through a conversation like the one they had just had. A little hair might be worth that, he decided, laying his cheek across the back of Eli’s head so he could still watch the scenery going by. Friends took care of each other… they would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Snadné jak facka_ \- Easy as a slap (how easy!)
> 
> I put in a lot of effort into looking for articles that talked about the effects of the Chernobyl fallout in Czechoslovakia - as I only know English I couldn't find very many, and of course there isn't anything conclusive about exactly how much people were affected by the radiation. Some studies now show an increased rate of things like thyroid cancer that have developed over a period of many years, but just so we're clear here (since I know people might fret): Tretij has a touch of the radiation poisoning for now, but he won't have cancer. I feel like that's something that most people are already intimately familiar with in some aspect of their lives and it isn't something I'm particularly comfortable writing about.
> 
> As for why Eli is not affected while Tretij is - Since Eli is the clone son of Big Boss (who was present at the Bikini Atoll test and didn't develop anything but sterility), I figure he might have a natural defense of sorts against getting sick and would not be ignorant to the dangers of fallout through his training. I wrote out a (way too detailed) backstory for Tretij's powers that would have better explained why he has sensitivity to radiation, but unfortunately it wasn't something I can really fit in anywhere here since there would be no way for Tretij to know it himself. If you're curious I might post it up on my tumblr (also mothbats; feel free to come say hi!), but you can also go with Tretij getting sick because he's not particularly healthy to start.  
>   
> Time to get started on the next chapter! (*•̀ᴗ•́*)و ̑̑


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